Catalyst
by DanPhantomCrush
Summary: Who is Clockwork? A friend to Danny, or a master manipulator? Sam makes a drastic sacrifice to preserve Danny's world but ultimately only puts off the inevitable. And no one escapes unchanged; her family, Danny's family, even Vlad. Post TUE.
1. Breaking Away

**Author's Note:  
**

**Feedback is lovingly appreciated. (Puppy dog eyes...) **

**And Danny Phantom is owned by Butch Hartman, of course. **

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Catalyst: **

**An often small event that triggers a massive change.**

* * *

_March 18, Spring Break. Three months after._

Sam glanced out of the tiny airplane window, then forced herself to look away. Even after weeks of planning, she still found herself hoping somewhere deep down that _someone_ would figure it out, would realize what she was doing and stop the flight, or maybe even catch _up_ to it in the air...

Her mouth tightened briefly, and she breathed in sharply, forcing the wistful thoughts from her mind.

_I will__** not** to be responsible for tearing him apart..._

She could and _would_ handle this.

Sam drooped a little, feeling fatigued. Yeah, she could get through this, but that didn't make things easy. She allowed her head to fall back on the airplane seat, and closed her aching eyes. The flight was scheduled to leave at five a.m., which meant she had gotten up ridiculously early this morning. Not that she'd been getting much sleep lately anyway.

Speaking of sleep, in a few hours Sam knew she'd need to be _extremely _alert, especially since letting certain things slip could land her in serious danger. She crushed the nervous flutter in her stomach, and managed, after a few minutes, to nod off.

* * *

Sam couldn't help but be slightly awed as she got out of the cab parked in front of Vlad Masters' Wisconsin mansion. Here was a man who was rich and not afraid to show it. Her family had money too, but they didn't flaunt it like this, and somehow she'd forgotten just how financially powerful Vlad truly was.

Sam held her purse closer to her, her stomach clenching in apprehension. She glanced back at the cab as she started forward, and calmed slightly. She'd paid them to wait for her while she went inside.

Vlad was already at the door as Sam walked up. Strangely, just the sight of him standing there was enough to focus her thoughts. She couldn't afford to screw this up.

"Miss Manson, isn't it?" His face was cool, the expression closed, but Sam thought she saw a glimmer of curiosity staring down at her.

"Yes." She glanced back at the cabby again, who had gotten out in order to stretch his legs. "Can we go inside? Where it's a little more private?" She gave Vlad a pointed look. _We've both got secrets, Plasmius._

He raised an eyebrow at her, then moved to the side and swept one hand out in a vague gesture towards the entrance. "Of course. Please, I want you to feel at _home_." The sarcasm was fairly subtle, but the Goth in her picked it up loud and clear.

They made their way through the front hall, past all the football paraphernalia, past the stairs, and into what was a fairly cozy sitting room, considering the size of the mansion. Vlad ushered her into a chair, and then took a seat himself about half a dozen feet away.

He leaned back and crossed his legs. "Now. What brings you all the way out here? Shouldn't you be in _school _or something?"

Sam stared at him for a moment, keeping her face neutral, which was something she'd gotten good at over the last few months. "Today is a Saturday, so no, I'm not skipping school." _Yet_. She paused, and then decided that being blunt was best. "Look, I know you're Vlad Plasmius…"

"I _know_ you know."

She frowned slightly, annoyed at the interruption. "Well, _I_ know you knew that I know." _Of course. _"I'm just stating it to make a point. This means I also know you've got ghost hunting weapons." Sam paused, and sighed. "Look, Danny told me about a handheld device you have that shorts out a ghost's powers. I...want to buy it from you." She watched him closely, the nervous flutter in her stomach coming back again.

He spoke slowly and incredulously. "You want to _buy_ it from me." He paused, as if letting this idea digest, and then smirked. "Having problems with your boyfriend?"

"_What_?" She went on, playing dumb. "First, I don't _have_ a boyfriend, and if I did what would it have to do with ghost hunting equipment?" _Please drop this..._

Vlad gave her a mock polite look of disbelief, and forged directly into dangerous waters. "Come now. I'm clearly referring to Daniel. Jack and Maddie would be _overjoyed_ to provide you with whatever equipment you asked for, so why come to me unless you didn't want to go to them? And if _that's_ the case, it suggests you don't want them to know, or more specifically _Daniel_ to know, which makes me think something's going on between you two."

Sam bristled, as he probably knew she would, and was secretly aggravated with herself for getting angry so easily. "Danny is _not_ my boyfriend. He's my _best_ friend. And we aren't fighting." She paused and looked away. "It's complicated, but basically I just want to be _capable_ of fighting ghosts without his help." She looked back to Vlad and pursed her lips. "But all _you_ need to know is that I've got a lot of money to work with. If you're interested in cutting a deal, great. Otherwise, I'll be leaving." She held her purse tightly, ready to stand up. This was where she hoped his insane obsession with Danny and his mom would pay off. She knew money wasn't an issue with Vlad, but any interaction with people who were close to the Fentons automatically caught his attention.

Her hunch proved correct, as he immediately held up his hands in a placating gesture that had just a hint of intimidation. "Now, _now_." Sam settled back down, and he went on. "That gadget could easily be misused, Miss Manson." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "May I call you Samantha?" She shook her head no, even as her mind overturned the ludicrousness of his previous statement. Of course he knew all _about_ how his "gadgets" could be misused!

Vlad continued. "Ah. Well, as I was saying, I can't sell it to just anyone. How do I know you won't try to use it on _me_ someday, for instance? And of course, I feel obliged to look out for Daniel's best interests as well, no offense meant, of course." He gave her a tiny smile that looked more like a smirk.

Sam stared for a moment. She couldn't _believe_ him! Looking out for Danny's best _interests?_ Yet she couldn't be too surprised by his answer. He was simply digging for information. She reigned in her emotions again, thinking how best to answer his ridiculous question.

"I can promise you I have no intention of using it at all, except in self defense." It was her turn to smirk. "So unless you _attack_ me, I won't use it on you."

"And Daniel?" His eyes bore into hers. She looked away.

"Danny would never attack me." He was silent for a moment.

She looked up to see his narrowed, suspicious eyes, and he finally spoke. "Then why do I have the strangest feeling you're running away from him?"

Sam didn't flinch, and didn't look away. This was one point she wanted him to be absolutely clear on. She'd _practiced_ for this. She spoke calmly and clearly. "I am not running away from him. I'm not running away _at all_. I just want to be more self reliant." She had no intention of telling him anything about her plans; this was the first day of Spring Break and if everything went well no one would realize she was gone for over a week.

"That's…understandable." Vlad still looked completely suspicious, but apparently wasn't going to push the issue, which was good enough for her. "You know, I think I _will_ give you the Plasmius Maximus after all…"

"_Sell_. I've got the money." They locked gazes for a moment. Vlad looked slightly taken aback at being interrupted.

"Actually, I'm feeling very giving right now. I _insist_ you take it for free." He smiled at her in what was meant to be a charming way.

Sam shifted in her seat, more than a little unsettled by his offer. "I'd rather pay for it. No offense, but being in your debt doesn't exactly appeal to me." If he needed her to be blunt about it, she would be.

He pushed on, still smiling. "A gift is a gift. No strings attached. You're best friends with Daniel, after all. And Jack and I are the best of friends as well; I know for a fact he thinks very _highly_ of you. And naturally, a friend of the Fentons is a friend of mine. I couldn't _possibly_ charge you."

Sam stared at him for a few moments. He _knew_ she knew that he hated Jacks guts, and so was obviously feeding her a line of bull, but…she could really, really use the extra money. She didn't like his sudden eagerness, though. He wasn't the sort of person to just give things away, no strings attached. But what could she do? _Make_ him take her money?

"If…if you insist. But money really isn't an issue. And, to be honest, you don't strike me as the type to give something away without expecting something in return." She watched him guardedly.

He laughed. "My dear Samantha…I'm sorry, you really _must_ let me call you Samantha, it's a lovely name. I can't _imagine_ why you choose to shorten it, just like Daniel…" He cupped his chin in one hand, smiling thoughtfully at her, then continued. "My dear Samantha, I see you've heard horrible things about me from Daniel. Whatever you've heard, let me assure you that I've never had anything but the _best _intentions at heart. Sometimes I just have a rather round about way of showing it." He raised his hands to forestall her arguing with him. "In any case, I really would like to give this to you, and perhaps a few other tools if you would like, free of charge. As a gift. No strings attached."

She might have believed him if it wasn't for the Cheshire cat grin spreading across his face. Well, no, she _still_ wouldn't have believed him, but that grin didn't help any.

* * *

Sam ended up leaving Vlad's less than an hour later, with one ghost catching cube and another rather nifty device Vlad had dubbed the Plasmius Maximus (like she would call it _that_) which was basically a taiser for ghosts. They were both fairly small devices, which meant it would be easy to carry them with her. In fact, they were already tucked into her purse for safe keeping. She had also nabbed her Fenton thermos (she'd had her own for over a year now) before leaving home, but it wasn't something she wanted to broadcast having, since her parents might have included it in her description, especially if Danny had anything to do with it. Being as rich as they were, she knew she would need to be very careful about where she went, what she said, and how she looked in order to avoid being recognized.

Her next destination was a bus stop. Sam needed to throw off any investigation that could take place a week from now, and was sure they'd be able to trace her trip to Wisconsin. She needed to travel to another state via several bus rides, which were much cheaper and way less conspicuous than airplane. Then she could alter her appearance and name. Sam hated to admit it, but she had a few online Goth friends (well, maybe acquaintances was a better word) that knew some very useful tricks about forging identification, many of which she would be using.

* * *

Danny walked along inside the mall, thinking about how annoying Sam's parents could be. Okay, maybe he was being childish, but Sam had _told_ him she really didn't want to go on vacation with them. She'd wanted to spend her break with him and Tucker, and she'd seemed really sad about not being able to. Not that hanging with just Tucker was bad or anything, but Danny had had…_plans_ for the break. He'd finally acknowledged his feelings for Sam, and had been working up the nerve to tell her for months. Heh, it was about _time_ really, since they were already in their junior years!

But she wasn't here; she was with her parents, who had apparently decided to whisk her away with them to the Bahamas at the very last second. Darn it! He knew it could wait, but it still didn't mean he wasn't disappointed.

He and Tucker were currently heading towards the arcade, a regular haunt of theirs. Danny had a feeling he'd be spending a lot of time there over the next week.

* * *

The Mansons were quite happy with a week to themselves, since Samantha was taking off on a road trip with her two best friends, and Grandma would be spending time at a resort and spa in Switzerland. It had been a while since the two had had a romantic get away, and complete isolation suited them just fine.

* * *

**Author's Note: First chapter of a multi chapter fic. Will feature the main peeps. Reviews make me oh so happy, so...please take the time! &&**

**Also...although I changed the story summary, still thanks to Cassie for the previous description!**


	2. A New Look

**Catalyst**

**Chapter Two: A New Look**

_Oi, I can't believe I'm doing this._ Sam stood bent over a sink in a small hotel bathroom with a towel over her shoulders. Her hair was soaked. With dye. After today, Sam Manson was going be a blonde. _This reeks…literally._ And it did. She had bleached her hair first, and was now applying a "golden blonde" hair dye to hopefully give it a more natural look. The whole thing was a very smelly process.

But it was necessary. If she didn't want to be found, she had to drop the goth look. And blonde was _definitely_ not goth. She was currently in South Dakota, about halfway done with her trip to Idaho, which was her final destination. She would be taking a different bus the rest of the way, and had taken advantage of the sixteen hour wait between rides to get a few errands done. After getting a hotel, she had made her way to a second hand clothing store and chosen several nondescript outfits for herself, right down to several pairs of shoes. They were neat, tidy looking ensembles that made her look a few years older. After tonight, she'd be a completely different person in the eyes of the casual observer.

There was _no_ way she was giving up her ultra-recyclo vegetarian diet, though. Maybe it would cost a tiny bit more, but certain things weren't going. And…maybe she'd keep some of the goth stuff packed away. For memories.

After letting the dye sit for the required amount of time, she rinsed and patted her hair dry with the towel around her shoulders. She needed to get some sleep. It was already nearing ten o'clock, and she had to catch a six thirty a.m. bus the next morning. Traveling to Idaho was important. She had to remove herself by at least a few states from both Vlad and her family if she wanted to get lost and successfully stay that way.

Feeling fatigued, Sam headed toward the bed. She had to admit there was one added benefit to thinking things out ahead of time; there would always be another step of her relocation plan to keep her occupied so the little niggling details (like the fact she was leaving her friends and family behind) didn't have time to register. It wasn't like she could stay, in any case.

* * *

_March 31st, 3 1/2 months after_

"Mr. Fenton! I asked you a question." Danny blinked up at Mr. Lancer, completely lost. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Lancer glanced away, apparently deciding to let it slide. "Mr. Foley, help Mr. Fenton answer the question."

Great. He'd been zoning out again. In a way, Danny couldn't help it. He'd spent the last week flying around at night, looking for Sam, which meant he wasn't exactly getting a good night's rest. Danny stifled a yawn, and frowned to himself. He couldn't _not_ do something, but somehow he still felt useless. Clearly she wasn't in Amity Park anymore, or in any of the nearby cities he could fly to and from in one night.

A few minutes later the lesson was over, and he was trudging out of the classroom with the other students, eyes on the floor.

"Mr. Fenton, a word." He looked up to find Mr. Lancer beckoning him to his desk. He sighed, and made his way over. He could see Tucker hovering by the door out of the corner of his eye. "Mr. Foley, you too."

They both looked down at Lancer, who was sitting, and waited for him to speak. They appeared to both be in trouble, though Danny couldn't fathom what Tucker, at least, had done wrong.

"I know you have a lot on your minds right now." Danny's eyes widened. _Oh_. This was about Sam. "As the vice principal, I have been made aware of Ms. Manson's disappearance, and am doing everything in my power to help speed along the search. I know you're both very close friends of hers, and so I understand your drop in attentiveness over the past week. You're worried, as are we all. But I think that keeping your minds focused on your school work at this time will help you considerably. As such, I would like both of you to come in for tutoring every day after school for an hour."

"What?" and "Mr. Lancer, is this really necessary?" were Danny's and Tucker's simultaneous responses to this suggestion. Danny continued on.

"Sir, with all due respect, I would prefer to spend that time helping in the search for Sam than worrying about my grades. Some things are more important."

"And…_my_ grades haven't dropped, so…" That was Tucker.

"Gentlemen, this isn't just about grades. I think it's a good idea for both of you to think hard for an hour of your day on something other than your friend. You _don't_ do it in class, so I'll be sure to keep you occupied during the tutoring sessions. It simply isn't healthy to continually worry twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. It may seem counter intuitive, but this time should help your equilibrium."

Neither boy agreed with him, but they didn't really have a choice, so they both nodded.

"Good. I'll see you in a few hours then." They made their way out, waiting until the chance of being overheard was gone.

"I can't _believe_ this! Tucker, I don't have _time_ for this. You _know_ the discussion we had." Danny lowered his voice. "There hasn't been a ransom or anything for her, which would be a pretty obvious reason for kidnapping since she's rich. And if that's not it, then it _has_ to be a ghost. You know I have enemies, and some of them..." Danny narrowed his eyes nervously, and lowered his voice more, "_know_ about my human identity, Tuck."

"Maybe, but…" Tucker looked at him sidelong.

Danny's heart froze in his chest, and he looked away. Of course, there was one glaring solution to the problem he refused to acknowledge. She had lied to him and her parents simultaneously. They had both thought she was with the other group, and they hadn't sorted out the truth until after Spring Break. She could've simply…run away.

But why would she do that? He couldn't fathom it, and for the moment was shoving it into a dark corner in the back of his mind. Somehow, the idea that she would willingly leave them all behind; leave _him_ behind, hurt more than some of the other possibilities at the moment. It would be better if she was stuck some place for a little while, waiting for him to swoop in and rescue her. He didn't want her to be hurt, of course, but if she was trapped and…_unable_ to return that would somehow be better. Then all he had to do was rescue the damsel in distress, so to speak. But if she had purposefully run away, finding her might not solve things. And, of course, Sam was smart. If she didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be.

Danny frowned in frustration as he ran into a corner of a nearby cafeteria table. It was the lunch period, and he and Tucker were currently looking for a spot to eat. Danny had been on autopilot, but that only partially explained the clumsiness. Finally, near the beginning of his junior year, a substantial growth spurt had kicked in. In only six months, he had gone from five foot four to five foot ten, and he wasn't stopping, though it had slowed down in the last month. Tucker had grown too, though at a slower and steadier rate over the past few years. He was currently a few inches shorter than Danny, who secretly wondered who would be taller when all the growing was finished.

Not that it was important to him at the moment. There were bigger questions on his mind, and a little clumsiness he could deal with. _Where would I go if I were Sam, and didn't want to be found?_

But there was the crux: why would she want to disappear in the first place?

* * *

_April 7, 3 months and 3 weeks after_

Invisible eyes gazed stoically in through a third story apartment window. There was a young woman inside brushing her teeth at the bathroom sink. It was nearly one o'clock at night, and she looked dead on her feet. Figuratively speaking, of course. The invisible figure chuckled to himself. Few people could appreciate the humor in that as thoroughly as he could.

Vlad Plasmius crossed his arms in thought. _Foolish girl._ She should've known he had tracking devices placed inside all of his expensive equipment. He'd been aware of her every movement after she left his mansion, which was good since his hunch that she wasn't heading back home had been proven correct. Well, he had no intention of interfering with her plans just yet; at least not until he could determine _why_ she had run away. It was quite the puzzle, really. But one that could be used to his advantage. Knowledge was power, and he was the only person who knew where Sam Manson had disappeared to. He also knew a few individuals who would pay dearly to know.

Speaking of which, the FBI had shown up on his doorstep about a week ago, asking questions. He'd been honest with them, except for a few minor details, of course. She'd heard from Daniel that he was friends with his family and like them, had an interest in ghosts. She'd come to him with the hope of buying equipment from him, at which point he'd turned her down and she had left. Naturally he had no clue were she had gone, but had thought she was going back home. At least that was what the authorities now thought. And he was safe, since the cab driver could back up the story, having never seen the gadgets she'd taken away with her.

In truth, he knew exactly where she was. He had waited a few weeks after the tracker had stopped showing substantial movement before coming to investigate. Perhaps there was something here she was seeking? But it appeared to be an average city, where she'd gotten a few average jobs, and lived in a below average apartment.

He had to admit she'd done a good job of settling in fast. Her employers all thought she was one Anna Billsbury, that she was nineteen years old instead of sixteen, and that she was a college student in need of a little extra cash. Somehow she'd learned how to forge herself an identity, with all the I's dotted and T's crossed on the necessary papers. He wasn't sure how, since he'd only been observing her for a day now, but it had been cleverly done. She'd probably had help, he mused. Successfully securing herself three jobs in such a short period of time also spoke volumes about her intelligence and hard working nature.

And then there was the fact that none of her employers knew about her other two jobs. She worked at a Target, at a local restaurant as a waitress, and at a book store. She had just come from the restaurant job, where she had helped to close up shop before heading home. Or to her apartment, in any case.

His attention was suddenly drawn back to the window as she moved out of the bathroom. She made her way to the bed and started changing for sleep. _Oh_. He turned around, suddenly embarrassed, and flew slowly away. There was no need to invade her privacy like _that_. Despite what some people might think about him, he was no peeping tom. He wondered briefly if Daniel ever abused his powers in such a way. _Well, he _is_ only sixteen, after all. _The answer was probably yes. Vlad smirked to himself and flew towards his hotel. He was heading back home in the morning. Perhaps another visit in a few more weeks would shed some light on the mystery that was Sam Manson, but for now he had other things to deal with.

* * *

_The next morning_

Sam lay on her stomach on her bed, knees bent and feet swaying in the air, a laptop in front of her. She'd just moved into an apartment three days ago, and with searching for work, she was just now getting around to taking a look at her finances.

The sum total of her allowance money came to a little under three thousand dollars, and the jewelry, laptop, (although she turned right around and bought another cheaper one, which she was currently using) and other various items she had sold came to 980 dollars, 34 cents. So she had about four thousand dollars in cash. Not bad to start out with, really, if she played it smart.

Actually, Sam was way ahead of the curve financially speaking, since she'd expected to have to pay Vlad for the ghost equipment. Now that she was going over her expenses, she couldn't help be grateful for his decision. Not necessarily grateful toward _him_, but grateful none the less. She didn't trust Vlad an inch.

The apartment would cost her two hundred and ninety dollars per month, and food was about four hundred. (She wasn't skimping on the food; her health was important.) At the absolute bare minimum, living would probably cost her about seven hundred and fifty a month. So without an income, her money would be gone in a little over four months.

Of course, she did have an income. Her first step after getting the basic essentials taken care of (namely, securing herself a new identity and getting a hotel) was to begin a job hunt. And when all you do all day long, every day for a week and a half is look for part time jobs, you can and will find them. She now worked at Red Lobster, Borders, and Target, and they all thought she was a full time college student with only one side job. They also thought her name was Anna Billsbury.

She had a rather shady internet goth friend to thank for the new identity. She didn't feel too secure meeting him face to face, especially since he was familiar with some obviously illegal activities, but he'd sent her internet link after link that explained, as a group, how to forge yourself social security papers, drivers license, insurance, personal checks, and so on. She'd built herself a driver's license by painstakingly altering her original and buying a few choice items to help in the process. She'd also gotten started on fixing up a believable social security card for herself, but she had no intention of forging personal checks. She was not a thief. She would even pay her taxes, or at least her alter ego Anna Billsbury would.

As a waitress, she would get about ten dollars an hour, including tips, and at Borders and Target she made six fifty an hour. She wasn't allowed to work more than twenty nine hours a week as a part time employee, so she was assuming an average of twenty hours of work from each job. This meant sixty hours a week total, which came to four hundred and sixty dollars a week. So she should be able to make 1900 dollars a month, which more than covered her expenses.

Of course, she knew that after a few months she'd have to drop the restaurant job, which would drop her to a forty hour week and an income of 1100 dollars. There were a few months when she wouldn't be able to work at all as well. Her plan was to have at least 6500 dollars saved up after four and a half months (and hopefully closer to 7500.) At that point she would be able to drop work completely for over ten months without running into money issues. Theoretically. She'd never had to manage things on her own before, so the next few months would be the actual test to see if her estimates were anywhere near accurate.

She glanced to the corner of her laptop screen for the time. _Hmm._ It was already 11:30. It was time to get up and head out for work. As Sam got ready to go a feeling of discomfort passed over her, but she shook it off. She was on autopilot, and she preferred that. Everything was work, finances, task after task...and no emotion was necessary for any of it.

Maybe it wasn't healthy, to be this detached. Somewhere deep down, she even acknowledged that this had to be a form of shock. She'd probably break down sometime. But that was okay. She was currently functioning. She was getting everything done that _had_ to get done. And that was all she could afford to let herself think about right now.

* * *

_May 12, almost 5 months after_

Danny lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was nearly two in the morning. But tomorrow was a Saturday, so it wasn't that big of a deal. His mind was wandering, but it always came around to the same subject eventually.

_Sam_. She had been gone for seven weeks now; eight if you counted spring break. Two months. School would be out in a week. Then…it would be summer break. Jazz would be coming home from her first year at Yale.

She didn't know about Sam yet. He and Jazz kept in touch, but Danny hadn't wanted to tell her. And his parents had left the subject untouched. Sam was…Sam had been his best friend, not theirs, so it was his news to break. But he couldn't bring himself to tell her.

Actually, it was something he felt he had to hide from Jazz at all costs. This secret had the same priority as his ghost powers, and they were something Jazz had had to figure out about him on her own, as he recalled. She was so much smarter than he gave her credit for. Who _knew_, he might've already given Sam's disappearance away somehow through the phone conversations they had.

Danny sat up suddenly in bed. _Who_ _knew? Who knew! Of course!_ Danny jumped up from bed, going ghost in the process. He immediately went intangible and dropped through the floor, heading for the ghost portal in the basement. He'd been thinking back to when his future self had come back in time a few years ago, since that was when Jazz had told him she knew about his powers, and then it had occurred to him. Clockwork! He knew everything! He was the "master of time" or something like that, anyway, so even if he _didn't_ know, he could take him back to when Sam had left, and they could see where she had gone!

He opened the ghost portal feverishly. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner? He just needed to visit Clockwork, and then…and then he could finally find Sam! It was almost too much to hope for, but he couldn't stop himself. She was so important to him, and he'd only just begun to really acknowledge it when she left. Her loss had clarified his feelings for her even more, however. He dove into the ghost zone, intent on finding Clockwork.

A few years ago Danny would've been terrified of going into the ghost zone alone, but not now. He had grown stronger over time, and felt relatively sure he was one of the strongest ghosts there, maybe even _the_ strongest. _He_ was the one to avoid now. So he didn't give it a second thought as he plunged haphazardly through the place, searching, searching…

* * *

Danny returned five hours later, aching with fatigue. It was light outside now, and he floated back to his bedroom, invisible, to crash onto his bed. Yet he couldn't fall asleep immediately. His mind was too awake, and needed to unwind.

He hadn't found Clockwork. He had travelled to where he remembered his strange home last existing, hadn't found it, and had looked a few other places, thinking his memory was off. Finally, in desperation, he'd sought out both the ghosts he knew and those he didn't to ask questions, but the results were invariably useless. They didn't even know who Clockwork was most of the time, assuming they didn't attack him on sight, of course. And now, after hours of futile effort, Danny lay on his bed face down and exhausted.

As he wound down, his emotions finally started kicking in. And he felt like kicking himself. He was such an _idiot_! He'd gotten his hopes up so high, _again_, just to have them dashed. She _wasn't_ coming back, he _wasn't_ going to find her, and there was _nothing_ he could do about it. A hollow pit of pain seemed to be tearing through his chest as this knowledge sank in, and he had to bury his face in his pillow to keep from making noise as the tears ran down his face.

He knew now why he didn't want to tell Jazz what had happened. That was the last step toward acceptance, the last remaining spark of hope fizzling out. Jazz still thought Sam was in Amity Park; he could hear it in her voice now that he thought about it. And that gave him comfort. She didn't know anything was wrong; she didn't know about the gaping hole in his heart yet. And when she did find out, there would be no one he could pretend with any more.

* * *

_In Idaho_

Sam sat up in bed. It was very early in the morning, a little past five, and she didn't need to be awake for a few more hours since she didn't have work until nine (at Borders.) But she hadn't been sleeping well for the last several hours. Her thoughts, against her will, had finally turned to the people she'd left behind, and pain had come with the recognition of that.

So now she sat with questions running through her head: How were they doing? Were they coping? Were they still searching for her? Even as Sam asked that question she knew the answer.

Of course. Her parents would search for years, she knew. Their only child, gone missing, presumed a run away? They would search forever. And the community would help how they could. The Foleys would help, and the Fentons.

Sam's face crumpled slightly, and she brought her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. She let her forehead fall to her knees as tears, the first she'd shed since leaving, slowly slid down her face and dripped off her nose.

It hurt. It _hurt _to think of them. She..._ached_ deep inside. She missed it all so much, the trips to the Nasty Burger, doing homework together, going to movies, ghost hunts...

Danny. She especially missed him. Sam sighed softly, and fell slowly to her side, where she lay in a fetal position.

A dark worry rose in her. What was he going through right now? She missed him so much, but...he had Tucker, Jazz, his parents, and she...she _couldn't_ be that important to him, really. Not so important as to...

Sam shuddered slightly, and closed her eyes. _Please Danny, please stay sweet..._

It hurt to think of him experiencing the dark emotions associated with loss and mourning. He needed to remain pure and untainted by those feelings, and it tore at her to think that she had something to do with causing him pain like that. But surely it wasn't strong enough to change him? Yet Sam still worried tonight, for some reason.

Had he changed? Had he become more jaded, more hateful, more…more like _him_? The other him.

"Ha. Heh…hehehehahaha!" Sam grinned, forcing herself to laugh, as she had lately whenever her thoughts started drifting into darker territory. _Hah_! As if she was _that_ important to him. Talk about getting a swelled head! _Dream on, Sam_.

Besides, the truth was, it would've been _worse_ if she'd stayed behind.

And yet...if there was one thing Sam had come to understand about Danny, it was that he was delicate in some ways, and thus needed certain constants in his life. He _needed_ friends and family, and so deep down Sam knew her leaving _had_ hurt him deeply. She could only hope that…

She sighed again and sniffled a little in an attempt to be rid of the tears that were threatening again. _Please don't change, Danny…_

* * *

_Two days later._

Vlad was speechless. He just didn't know what to say, not that he was speaking out loud any time soon anyway. He had come back to Idaho the day before to check up on Samantha Manson.

He was now floating along behind her, invisible, as she slowly perused wedding rings in a jewelry store. _Wedding rings._ He'd been following her through her day for the past hour, and was still flabbergasted. He couldn't think of an instance in which he'd been this completely surprised in years, and his mind had yet to kick in with suggestions, rationalizations, and so on as it usually rather quickly did.

"May I help you, Ma'am?" Vlad shuddered as a store clerk walked right through him. The clerk shuddered too.

She turned partly around from the ring display. "Actually, I just need the cheapest wedding ring you've got."

"Do you know what you'd like it to look like? Gold, platinum, with a diamond…"

"Just plain gold. Unless there's something cheaper that still looks like a wedding ring. And I'll be paying with cash, if that's alright."

The clerk looked slightly surprised by the last comment, but recovered quickly. "That's perfectly fine. Why don't you come down this way, and I'll show you a few…" Vlad tuned out the conversation as he floated slowly after them.

She was getting married? To _who_? And honestly, it was already a little late for that, wasn't it?

Because, after staring at her in utter amazement for the last hour, he had finally acknowledged what seemed so impossible to grasp. Sam Manson…Sam Manson was pregnant. He wasn't sure by how many months, but ladies didn't get as big as she was in just two months, so he guessed she must've been pregnant before moving to Idaho. And…she had probably known when she left, he realized.

He watched her absentmindedly as she forked over three hundred dollars to the clerk for a small ring, already on her finger. She was at the cute stage, he thought, where it was clear she was pregnant, yet she didn't look like a house. She wouldn't be particularly encumbered by it for a few more months yet. Probably. He was hardly a judge of these things.

The obvious question, and the one he was putting off thinking about, was who was the father? He knew she and Danny were close, but not like that. At least not yet. He knew because he had the boy watched very closely, and to a lesser extent his friends as well. And she was his best friend.

Therefore Vlad knew she wasn't the type to get into this situation by being irresponsible. She was the falling in love, getting married, and _then_ having children type. And he'd predicted it would be with Daniel, who he knew she had feelings for.

Daniel's feelings for her were also as clear as day and had only become more obvious during her absence. Vlad had truly felt sorry for the boy over the past few months, since he himself had gone through similar hardship when he lost Maddie to Jack. Because of this, Vlad had seriously considered telling Daniel her whereabouts, but he had wanted to know why she had left first, before taking any definite action. He needed to secure his position of power.

Unfortunately, the fact that she was pregnant simplified things while opening up a new and bigger can of worms. It was clear now why she had run away. But the question still remained: who was the father?

Daniel wasn't, and Samantha Manson wasn't the type to simply run around with people. Despite her vegetarian goth exterior, she was quite traditional in many ways. She also kept the ghost catcher with her at all times, and this wasn't Amity Park. Ghosts were few and far between. It looked like she was afraid of being attacked by a ghost, but it couldn't be Daniel and it certainly wasn't himself. She'd come to him for the protection, after all.

He frowned, a firm suspicion growing in his mind. He had a feeling it was a ghost that had placed her in her current predicament, and probably one of Daniel's enemies. He certainly was good at making them, and that would further explain why she had left. She wouldn't want Daniel to find out, because he would feel responsible. And she was bound to feel ashamed as well, although he wondered if that would be enough to make her run away. If there was one thing he had learned about her after observing her for several years, it was that she was a very, very strong person, and deserving of Daniel's friendship. Vlad didn't think she'd flee purely out of shame.

Still, this made things complicated for him. He didn't want to risk Daniel's animosity (alright…._further_ animosity), but he couldn't afford to tell him about her just yet. The concept of a living person having a child with a ghost was just too amazing, too scientifically fascinating to pass by. It was an amazing concept, from an intellectual point of view, a concept he was certain Daniel wouldn't appreciate. Vlad hadn't known it was even possible for a ghost and a human to have a child together, though he had wondered, but she seemed to be confirming it right before his eyes.

Of course, he _could_ be missing something, and thus have jumped to the wrong conclusion. Perhaps it was a human father after all? But he had a feeling he was right.

Vlad pursed his lips. He'd have to watch over her very carefully from now on. She was his new pet project, and he didn't want anything to go wrong with the pregnancy. She would get the best doctors, and would be taken care of in every way he could manage without giving away his involvement, unless it became absolutely necessary.

Ironically, Vlad had privately thought that all his curiosity on this subject would be put to rest when Daniel got married and started having children, but it appeared someone had beaten him to the punch. Of course, they were a full ghost, unlike Daniel, which would presumably effect the child even more.

Already he was brimming with curiosity. Would it be a halfa, or a full human? What powers would it have, and how would it effect the mother? Or perhaps…it would even be a _full_ ghost? Raising a dead child…what a strange concept.

Still, there was the issue of who the father was. He needed to look over Danny's encounters with ghosts over the past few years (Vlad had archived all his little adventures) and hopefully narrow it down to who the perpetrator was.

* * *

Sam looked down at the ring on her finger as she stepped out of the shop. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of getting one earlier. As she started to become visibly pregnant, whispers and stares had sprung up as well. She was a little under five months along now.

People didn't think very highly of an unmarried pregnant lady. She hated the negative attention, but more importantly she couldn't afford to draw _any_ sort of unnecessary attention to herself, negative or positive. Her goal was to blend in, so people gossiping about her was a bad thing.

Thus the ring, coupled with a story she would be circulating with the co-workers (only when asked of course.) As far as they would know, she'd been married for over a year, but didn't like wearing the ring because the gold irritated her skin slightly. And she didn't accessorize well (which was actually the truth.) She'd married right out of high school, and while she had decided to go to college, her husband had taken the military route. He was currently serving oversees, which was why she lived alone, if anyone found out. His name was Bob, and her maiden name was Penndel. And _that_ covered all the bases, in her opinion. If other questions ever came up, she'd just add lib.

Not that she expected anything more than a few casual questions from a few of her co-workers, but it was good to be prepared. In any case, things would go easier now with her husband "Bob" in the picture.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, I hope you guys like this! This chapter is kind of a medium length one for me. I've got a real doozy of a chapter in a few chapters, and the first chapter was kind of short. Anyway...good or bad, I'd love to hear what you think of this, so please review!**


	3. Summer Starts

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter Three:** **Summer Begins**

* * *

_May 21, a little over 5 months after_

Danny stood in his bedroom, getting dressed for a night out. Jazz was back, in all her glory of having finished her first year of classes at an Ivy League school, with honors, and the whole family was going out to celebrate her good grades tonight, along with Tucker.

She had yet to find out about Sam's disappearance.

Actually, the subject of Sam had become taboo. Danny didn't like to think about it, but he knew it was because of him. Sam was on his mind more than anyone else's, it seemed, and when she came up in conversation he either got excited or depressed. Excited that maybe her name was mentioned because there had been word on her location; depressed when he realized it had nothing to do with the search, or was simply someone confirming its continued failure.

And he knew his parents didn't want to send him on an emotional roller coaster ride all the time, so her name had come up less and less over the past several weeks. Maddeningly, this only made Danny more high-strung, because it gave him the feeling, however misguided, that everyone else was trying to forget her. It felt like they were trying to sweep his best friend under the rug, as though she'd never existed! Even Tucker avoided talking about her.

In the back of his mind Danny acknowledged that Sam's parents, who were worried sick, were still doing everything they could to locate their only daughter. They'd hired several private detectives, the FBI was on the look out, the local and federal police had her information, and her face was being printed on milk cartons across the United States.

But it wasn't enough! They hadn't found her, and here he was, going to school, going out to eat, _celebrating_ (the word twisted into a hiss of disgust in his mind) while Sam was gone, maybe hurt, maybe in need of rescuing! Despite all of the evidence, somewhere deep down Danny still hoped that she hadn't left of her own free will. She'd been forced to leave, somehow, kidnapped, _anything_ as long as it wasn't her decision to go. He couldn't stand the thought that she'd left them all behind…voluntarily.

As a result of this desperate hope, the horrible thought of Sam in trouble and in pain would spring into his mind at odd times, and tonight his worry over her was starting to consume him. Didn't they all understand that he needed to bring her back here; he needed to _go_ and _get_ her, not go out to eat! And he couldn't stop the tiny ball of resentment he felt welling up inside. Only two months had gone by, and they were already forgetting her. How _could_ they? How could they go on with their lives as though she had never been here?

Danny was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of his mother's voice calling from downstairs, and he slowly tuned back into his surroundings. His fists were painfully clenched, and a moment ago, now that he thought about it, he could've a sworn he was growling.

He glanced into the mirror, and saw that his eyes were glowing green as well. He stared into his reflection, willing himself to calm down. This had been happening more recently. When he became upset or angry his eyes would flash green, and over the past several weeks these emotions had become more and more prevalent. He sighed, closing his eyes, and concentrated on clearing his mind. He wasn't going to blow his identity any time soon, and he wasn't going to ruin the evening for Jazz. She didn't even know about Sam, so it wasn't like he had a right to be angry at _her_.

When Danny opened his eyes they had returned to their usual striking shade of blue, (though not quite so striking as their green alternative) and he made his way toward the door.

He was met at the top of the stairs by Jazz, who was coming up to check on him. She was smiling widely, so happy to be done with work for a while, and content in knowing that she had done a good job with it. Now she had time to be with her family and relax, which was a wonderful feeling.

"Hey Danny, what's taking so long?" She smiled good naturedly. "Tucker's downstairs, by the way." They started heading back down together.

He put a hand behind his head and gave her a half smile as they walked.

"Oh…nothing. Just zoning out." He couldn't hold her gaze for some reason, and looked forward instead, which was a big mistake with Jazz. She already had one of those 'knowing big sister smiles' forming on her face, and he wasn't in the mood for it.

"Ooookaay, if you say so. You're such a puzzle sometimes, Danny." She paused then added conversationally, "By the way, where's Sam? Is she coming along tonight? You two and Tucker are usually inseparable." Her smile broke when she saw the look on his face, and stopped dead, turning around to face.

"Danny…? What's wrong?" She watched as his face went through a range of emotions; first surprise and distress, then anger, until it landed on an anguished sadness that radiated off of him.

"She's…not here, Jazz. She's…" He couldn't look at her, and was ashamed of it. He didn't want to have a breakdown in front of his sister, but it was like all the worry and upset began welling out of him in response to her innocent questions. She would be the last person to find out, and then everyone around him would give up, would try to help him "let go", "calm down", and all those other things he wasn't _capable_ of doing in this situation!

He huffed, and tried to stop himself from losing it. He was _not_ going to cry. "She disappeared almost two months ago, o…over Spring Break." He could feel his face stretching, causing his teeth to show in a grimace from the effort it took him not to shed tears. They had stopped halfway down the stairs, and he had turned around to look back up them, to avoid Jazz's questioning eyes.

"I…she." He swallowed, voice rough. "She left over the break, and we only realized she was gone when everyone came back, the week after. Her parents are searching for her, of course." He waited to hear what Jazz would say. After a moment he felt a hand on his shoulder, slightly hesitant. Then she gave him a hug from the side.

"I...had no idea." They stood for a moment. "Danny? Do they think she was kidnapped, or did she run away?"

He sighed, and let go of his forlorn hope in the face of logic. "She wasn't kidnapped; it looks like she had it all planned out, actually." He looked away from her, feeling crushed inside.

"The reason I ask is because, well, running away is _hard_, Danny. And it's only been a couple of months. That's less than _eight weeks_. She has a wonderful family and friends, she's been provided for all her life, and now she's on her own." He tensed up as she talked, so she hastened to add, "What I mean is, she has no reason to stay away that we know of, so don't…don't give up hope, Danny. I bet she'll come back before too long. She has so_ much_ here, after all. Her parents, all her good memories, her friends. You."

"But…_why_, Jazz? Why would she leave in the first place, if there's so much for her here?" His voice was wobbly, and the tears he'd been holding back were making trails down his cheeks.

She was silent for a moment, and then spoke as though she was still searching for an answer herself. "Maybe she's going through something we don't know about. Maybe there's something in her life she's dealing with? A member of the family died, maybe. Or…maybe she just really needed space and wanted this experience. Some people really want to get away and show their independence at this age."

He snorted gently, and looked up at the ceiling. "Jazz…you _know_ Sam, you know she isn't that stupid. She doesn't just 'run away to show her independence'! She wouldn't _do_ that to us." Something, however, _was_ shifting in Danny's mind; there was _some_thing right in what she had just said. He could feel it. And when he figured out what it was, maybe that would help him find Sam…?

He had tuned out for an instant, and when he tuned back in he realized Jazz was still talking about what Sam's motivations for leaving might have been. "…independence, you're right, she's not the type, but sometimes…"

He pulled away from Jazz, wiping his face on his shirt, and gave her a shaky smile, interrupting her impromptu speech.

"Jazz…sorry. I didn't mean for this to… Heh, this is your big night, right?"

She gave him a surprised look, then raised an eyebrow at him, frowning softly. "Don't be silly; this is _way_ more important than a night on the town." Jazz paused, and sighed. "Danny…I understand what you must be feeling; here we all are having a good time when Sam's out there somewhere. You _know_ we don't have to do this tonight if you don't want. It can wait." She smiled at him.

But somehow just hearing someone acknowledge his feelings helped calm him down even more. _Actually…Jazz isn't too bad at this psychology stuff._

He gave her a big smile and one big sniff to get rid of his runny nose. "No way, Jazz. I'll be fine. Actually, just talking to you helped a lot. Besides, I'm starved." He was about to start down the stairs again when something important occurred to him.

"Er…wait. Are my eyes puffy?"

She squinted up at him (he was finally taller than her now.) "A little bit, but it's not a big deal, Danny." She pursed her lips, then grinned and linked arms with him. "Come o…"

Their Mom was at the bottom of the stairs, smiling up at them softly. It looked like she'd been there a while, and Danny felt himself blushing as they made their way down.

"Come on, sweethearts." Maddie ruffled Danny's hair when they got to the bottom of the stairs. "It'll all turn out all right, Danny, you just wait and see."

The three made their way outside to join the others, who were waiting in the Fenton RV. And for the first time in weeks, Danny felt hope spring back up again.

* * *

_June 1st, 5 ½ months after_

Sam had a guardian angel; there was no other explanation. (A certain Wisconsin billionaire sneezed.)

She was sprawled out on her bigger, better new mattress in her nice new apartment. It had more than two crummy little rooms, like her previous apartment. Actually, it had a kitchen (with a tiny dining room), a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room, all decently sized and _nice_. It had good carpeting you could sink your toes into, and it even came with a washer and dryer in a very small room next to the bathroom. It was a nice place, and as of a week ago _way_ out of her price range.

This was no longer the case. Amazingly enough, she'd won the lottery. It was crazy, really, because she hadn't even known her name was on the list. Specifically it was a lottery for Target customers nationwide, and as a favour a fellow employee had added her name, along with several others, to the huge pile of names being drawn. They'd apparently felt it would be completely awesome if a lowly employee were to win.

So in essence, Sam had been handed 35,000 dollars out of the blue. Of course, the government had confiscated about one third of it, but that still left her with enough money to upgrade certain things. And she couldn't resist getting a better apartment (which was paid for a year) and a few pieces of furniture, like a better bed, a couch for the living room, and a table and chair for the tiny dining room next to the kitchen. She'd also picked up a few more cooking utensils.

She'd blown over half the lottery money already as a result. Still, that left her about eight thousand dollars ahead of where she was _before_ the lottery. This meant she had twice as much money stored up (about 14,000 dollars) than she had hoped to have at the time she would need to quit work to have the baby. And she didn't have to make payments on the apartment, which had been her biggest monthly expense before. So even though she'd blown a lot of money in the last week, she was still doing really well.

And she had to admit having a bigger space made a _huge_ difference in her life. She had grown up in a big house, after all, with all her needs and comforts provided for. It felt nice to get a little of what she had left behind back again, even if it was only material.

The extra money also meant she didn't have to feel bad about occasionally buying something that caught her eye. She'd like to decorate a little, for instance, so was on the lookout for a few nice looking inexpensive paintings for the walls. Also, she was buying better food now, allowing herself an added one hundred dollars every month for her spending. Sam hadn't realized when first starting out how expensive healthy food would be, and hadn't been as good about that as she promised herself she would be. None of her future meals would consist of three minute ramen, or breakfast cereal (expect maybe for breakfast, heh.)

She wasn't dropping her jobs, though. Her co-workers at Target had wondered at this, but she'd just told them it was important not to let a little money go to your head.

That was true enough, but her real reason was that she needed to keep busy. The last thing she wanted to do was sit around all day, just_ thinking_. There were too many things she didn't want to think about, so she couldn't afford to be idle and let her mind wander.

Actually, it was strangely gratifying for Sam to know that she was capable of being as focused as she had been these past months. She'd made every effort to block all negative things from her mind, and it had worked amazingly well. Aside from a handful of hard nights, her life had been, if not great, at least not too bad. Certain things were off limits, certain thoughts, and occasionally she wondered if she had suppressed things a little too much. But Sam felt like she could handle her life right now, and that's what she needed to do. She couldn't afford to be depressed, or afraid, or anything else negative, and maybe her body and mind understood this fact. No one was looking out for her, so she simply didn't have the luxury of going to pieces.

Sam sighed and shifted onto her side, which was getting a lot more comfortable than sleeping on her back lately due to the weight. That was one thing she couldn't ignore. In three and a half months she'd be giving birth, and that _scared_ her.

But at the same time she was strangely excited. In the last several days the baby had really started to move. It even kicked occasionally, which always made her pause in wonder. She had a little person growing inside her, and at odd times this miracle of life would strike her profoundly. She smiled to herself, and made a mental note to buy a book of baby names after her next work shift at Borders.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry, this chapter is kind of filler, though it is starting to build some stuff up for later. And it's a tad short. I'll probably update again in a few days. I'd love reviews, though, none the less! But seriously, please let me know if I'm anywhere in the ballpark with Danny and Jazz as far as characterization goes. (And Sam, of course.) I thrive on constructive criticism. :)


	4. Research

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter Four: Research  
**

**Author's Note: Hopefully this will clear up that niggling question a few of you have... **

* * *

August 1, 7 ½ months after

_Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic…_ This was a mantra she'd adopted in the last few minutes as Sam lay suspended in mid air.

It was two in the morning, and she'd woken up with the intention of locating the missing blanket because she'd felt a draft of cool air. Now she knew why; she had been _levitating_ in her sleep. Initially she'd frozen in fear, not knowing what to think except _someone_ must be levitating her because she definitely couldn't do that by herself, and then the terror filled thought arose that _it could be him, it could be him…_and that alone had pulsated through her head for a few terror filled moments.

She'd calmed down a little when nothing had happened, and realized what was really going on, however. Her _baby_ was doing it! She had suspected he (about a month ago she'd had a sonogram done) wouldn't be a normal child, and this simply confirmed it. The father was a ghost, so it made sense the child would be part ghost. And now that she thought about it, sometimes her womb would turn strangely cold, so in retrospect she should be thanking her lucky stars that she'd never levitated in the work place before.

She ran her hands through her hair as she gently bobbed up and down about a foot above her bed, and let out a long breath. At least she wasn't up too high, in case the baby stopped levitating suddenly. Had this happened before, and she'd simply slept through it? She was such a sound sleeper she wouldn't be surprised.

_Okay…Mom would like to get some sleep now, if you could put me back down…_ It felt weird referring to herself like that, even in her head, but she knew that's what her son would call her someday.

Because it wasn't like adoption was possible, not when the child was half ghost. She was one of the few people in the world who even _understood_ what that meant, and she was lucky to basically know what to expect, as far his powers were concerned. Besides, she knew she couldn't give her baby away, not after carrying him for nine months.

She gasped as she felt herself lowering back down to the bed, and noticed that she was suddenly much warmer again. She grabbed onto the mattress for comfort, and worked on getting her breathing under control…again. The sudden shift downward had shocked her almost as much as the initial discovery of being suspended in the air.

Suddenly a horrible thought occurred to her: what if this happened during the birth? What would the doctors do? She had already seen a doctor a few times during her pregnancy for basic check ups, and had already decided where she'd be giving birth and with who (Dr. Mark Evans). She'd even been given a number to call so someone could get her to the hospital when her water broke. (Dr. Evans didn't like that she lived alone, and had insisted she keep her cell phone near at all times in case anything went wrong.)

Sam got up from bed, and went about trying to fashion something that would keep her grounded (literally) in the future. As she worked to find a way to tie herself down, comfortably, at night, her mind turned over how to prepare for the birth, now that levitation during the birth (she didn't even want to _think_ about the other ghost powers) was a possibility.

* * *

Sam wasn't the only one planning her birth. In fact, Vlad Masters, currently in his study in Wisconsin, had been aware of these ghostly episodes longer than she had. This was because he'd placed ghost sensing equipment in her new apartment, and had been monitoring it carefully ever since she moved in. There had been several brief incidents, lasting only a few minutes, in which a ghost presence would show up clearly on the radar. He had made notes of these, and intended to be nearby during the last month of the pregnancy to help with any ghostly predicaments if necessary, having decided that it was indeed the child he was picking up. It was shifting between ghost and human (though it stayed human most of the time.)

He was certain of this for two reasons. Firstly, the radar only picked up ghost activity when Samantha was in the vicinity. Also, Vlad knew she hadn't used any of her ghost catching equipment (since that was monitored also), so she hadn't seen any ghosts herself. Thus, it had to be the baby.

Vlad sighed and leaned back in his extremely comfortable designer leather recliner, and reached for his cup of tea. It had gone cold, so he warmed it by concentrating some ecto-plasmic energy into his hands (one of the many perks of being half ghost; you never had to eat anything cold.) He got up after sipping quietly for a moment, and headed toward his laboratory, thinking things over.

Vlad wanted things to go as smoothly as possible for her, and thus had rigged the Target lottery, but that wasn't enough. He needed to make sure the doctors did their best, and that nothing went horribly wrong in the event that the child did "go ghost" during the birth.

Bribe money was in order, and perhaps a little threatening to make things absolutely clear. Dr. Mark Evans would be instructed not to breathe a word of Vlad's interference to Samantha, of course, and indeed Dr. Evans wouldn't know who he really was. He would only know him as Vlad Plasmius.

Vlad took another sip of tea as the bookcase opened up to admit him into his secret lair, of sorts. It was for the best. Dr. Evans needed to know exactly what to expect from the baby, and Vlad could demonstrate for him ahead of time. It was important, if the child was in ghost form, and thus cold and possibly blue, that the doctors didn't think it had been born dead (though in a sense it was, but that was beside the point.) Also, he could threaten very effectively in his ghost form, and could easily convince the doctor that speaking of the encounter to anyone _would_ be _fatal_.

He didn't like to threaten people's lives (much, anyway) but in this case it was absolutely necessary. If word were to spread about him, it could possibly bring the Fentons and that was the last thing he wanted. So the doctor would be sworn to utter secrecy. However, Vlad wasn't cruel (most of the time) so Dr. Evans would be compensated monetarily for his pains. Vlad would cover Samantha's hospital bills, and a little more.

He'd make sure Dr. Evans would tell her a donation had been made recently that was meant to cover people's hospital bills for the next year, or something like that. (Stranger things had happened, after all.) Vlad would be happy as long as she didn't suspect his involvement.

One thing he did not relish, however, was witnessing the birth itself. He _had_ to be there for it; there simply wasn't any other option. He was the only one who could really _hold_ the baby, or follow it if the child levitated or went intangible. This was a thought Vlad routinely chucked to the back of his mind in dread. Actually, he'd nearly rather be beaten senseless by Daniel a few times than have to go through this ordeal, and in truth, Vlad was hoping fervently that everything _would_ go smoothly, and he wouldn't have to step in.

Vlad sat down at his computer, which had all the information he didn't want anyone randomly stumbling over, thus its location in his lab. He set his tea aside, and sat thinking for a moment. Along with getting plans for the birth in order, he had been doing research on who the father of the child might be. Now that he knew, from eavesdropping, that Samantha was due September 17th, that meant the…the incident had occurred on the 17th of December, or thereabouts. That would've been the start of the winter break, and after some research he'd discovered that her parents had been away for that week, returning home in time, he noted, for the start of Hanukah. That solitary time must've allowed the girl to pull herself together enough so her parents wouldn't suspect anything.

Vlad had also found, after pulling together every bit of surveillance he had of Daniel during that period, that the boy had been under the impression that Samantha was very sick at the beginning of winter break, which made sense. She wouldn't want to face her friends for a while, either.

Vlad frowned to himself. Poor girl. He wasn't unsympathetic towards her, even if his interest was less than chivalrous. If anything, his close observation of her over the past months had increased his high opinion of her by leaps and bounds. She'd gotten right back on her feet, and then made the decision to leave, he was convinced, out of an urge to protect Daniel, not to avoid embarrassment. It was amazing, really, that she could put aside her own needs to such an extent, and it was clear to him that she loved Daniel very much to be able to do so.

Still, Vlad prided himself on his ability to remain detached when it was called for, as scientists often had to, and so didn't allow himself to dwell on Samantha's emotional state, or the difficulty of her situation, beyond making sure it wasn't such that the baby was in danger.

Because that was Vlad's main focus. A half ghost child being carried by a human mother. It was a study he couldn't pass up. And of course, watching the child grow would indubitably be fascinating. What would it have been like, he wondered, to have been _born_ with the powers he had acquired during his college years?

Vlad blinked his eyes a few times and brought his mind back to reality. All this speculation, however entertaining, was currently useless to him. He had been speeding ahead years into the future, and right now he needed to concentrate on other things. He leaned forward, and began clicking through files, making his way to a particularly useful one.

He had compiled any and all ghost encounters that had taken place in the weeks surrounding the attack on Samantha. There had been the regular encounters; a few visits from the Box Ghost near Christmas time (there were lots of boxes around, after all), the Lunch Lady had put in a visit shortly before the break (he was beginning to have highly disturbing suspicions about those two), and that was about it.

Except for one other encounter. And that's really all it was, because it was over almost as soon as it had begun. A ghost Daniel had fought briefly during his freshman year showed up again at his home on the 19th of December. Luckily, it had taken place in the Fenton lab, where Vlad had installed secret cameras over a year ago. (He admitted to himself that Jack was very good at inventing, if nothing else, so decided to keep an eye on his work.) Therefore Vlad had a recording of the entire incident. At least, he _would_ have a recording if something hadn't gone wrong with the equipment. It had an unmistakable glitch.

This was the file he was currently loading. He clicked play, and watched the now familiar scene once again.

Daniel was in the lab, cleaning (an unusual occurrence in and of itself), when a ghost came through the ceiling. Daniel's reaction had been immediate and extreme. Usually he would "go ghost", and take a fighting stance, then exchange a little banter with the other ghost. Not so this time.

Instead he was so shocked, it seemed, that he didn't even think to change over. A moment passed where they stared at each other, and then Daniel snapped out of it. Suddenly he transformed, with his usual battle cry notably absent. He was utterly focused, and all non essentials had dropped away as a result. He was also incredibly tense, and the more times Vlad saw the video, the more he wondered if Daniel was even capable of speaking without straining his voice at that moment.

He had taken an involuntary step backward as the ghost landed on the floor (he had been hovering), and his eyes were still wide with shock. Everything about Daniel was on edge, and Vlad was still scrambling to figure out why. He didn't react this way when Plasmius showed up, so why with this ghost? It didn't make sense; the only fight Daniel had with this ghost took place over two years ago and only lasted a few minutes! True, a Nasty Burger joint had exploded, but that was actually due to poor management of the store, nothing more. Much more had happened between these two, somehow, somewhere, and Vlad was missing it.

"_You_." Daniel finally managed to say something, though it came out in a harsh whisper. He sounded as shocked as he looked.

The ghost with flaming hair gave him a wide smile. "_Me_." He glanced around the lab, as if unconcerned about Daniel's presence.

"I was in that blasted thermos for nearly two years." He said it lightly, but Vlad could see the malice seeping through. "I had a…long time to think about things. You, me. Our friends."

"You don't have any friends." Daniel's eyes narrowed. The ghost paused, and for a moment a strange look came over his face. It was intense, and for a very brief moment he seemed to be in horrible pain. It was gone so fast, though, that Vlad wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it. The ghost quickly adopted a cynical grin.

"You're so smug it makes me _sick_." His face grew more spiteful with every word. A look of pain crossed over his features again, and Vlad almost thought he might cry. "You have no _idea_…" But he stopped, and clamped his mouth closed. He looked up at the ceiling, as if looking for meaning there. After a moment, he said in a curiously hoarse voice, a half smile on his lips, "You're naïve and stupid, you know."

Daniel snorted. "Careful, aren't you insulting _yourself_ too?" He was crouched, ready for an attack. (Vlad wasn't sure what to make of this remark.)

The ghost seemed distracted, however, and Vlad got the impression he was experiencing some sort of internal battle. He wasn't even looking at Daniel anymore, and was instead glancing around aimlessly, as if looking for a place to focus his attention. But then he turned, suddenly, and locked gazes with the boy, who had been watching him like a hawk.

"I could destroy your life with three little words, you know." The ghost spoke so quietly the recording barely picked it up, and his tone held a sort of guilty excitement, like he was about to tell a secret that wasn't his to tell. But his expression showed the deep pain Vlad had seen earlier. He was still struggling with something.

"What do you mean?" Daniel looked a little worried now, and Vlad couldn't blame him. This ghost was almost erratic in his behavior, and yet his comment could hardly be taken lightly. The only constant was the threat hanging in the air.

The ghost drew into himself, as if giving away those three secret words was something he wouldn't (or couldn't) do, when it came down to it. Then he spoke, as if talking to himself.

"Maybe I'll just kill you, and take your place." He looked up at Daniel, a slightly crazy look in his eyes. "I did it once before, you know." Vlad could see the terror in Daniel's eyes, and couldn't blame the boy, though he wondered at the ghost's comment. What did he mean, 'before'?

The ghost seemed to be close to a break down of some sort, emotions fluctuating quickly. Uncertainty (and was it despair he saw?) was dueling with murderous intent in his red eyes. Vlad had been afraid for Daniel when he first saw this video, some months ago.

Daniel had gotten control of his terror after a moment, however. "You can try! But I beat your butt before and I can do it again." He deepened his fighting stance, and looked like he was about to spring. The ghost took a similar stance…

And this was where the tape completely screwed up. It seemed to Vlad some minutes must've passed by that didn't get taped, but he couldn't for the _life_ of him find a problem with the machine. Something obviously important was missing, though. Daniel had been in one place, and then suddenly he jumped to being several feet away, facing a different direction. It was like a CD that skipped, or an old movie that had several frames missing (or perhaps an entire scene.)

Along with Daniel suddenly changing position, the other ghost had completely disappeared. Daniel was still tense, his hands in fists and eyes narrowed, but it was clear the crisis had been resolved. Daniel had stood for a few minutes, slowly relaxing. Then he had walked out of the lab.

It was incredibly frustrating for Vlad, since clearly _something_ important had happened. He could only study what was there, however, in the hopes of deducing what was missing. The only other option was to actually question Samantha or Daniel about the ghost, and that wasn't _really_ an option.

Something about the ghost disturbed Vlad. He was strangely familiar, and he couldn't help wonder, based on the conversation, exactly what relationship he had with Daniel.

Why was his clothing so strikingly similar to Daniel's when in ghost form, for instance? The most disturbing part, of course, was the D insignia on the chest. Was he imitating Daniel, and if so, why? The ghost had said "our friends," and when he called Daniel naïve and stupid, Daniel had seemed to suggest the ghost was insulting himself.

Vlad had seen many different ghosts in his time as Plasmius, and so this ghost's features didn't strike him as unusual in any way. The forked tongue was common, along with red eyes, in the stronger and nastier ghosts. Pointed ears were as common as not in all ghosts, and that went for the flaming hair as well. Fangs were a tad unusual, but Vlad couldn't complain; he had fangs too, after all.

No, the truly disturbing thing about him was that, when you took away all the ghostly attributes, he looked _strikingly_ similar to Daniel. Vlad guessed that when Daniel was fully grown, the two could even pass for identical twins, if not for the obvious differences.

This brought an entirely different meaning to their conversation, of course. Vlad was aware of the possibility that there were alternate dimensions where other versions of himself, and of everyone, existed. This ghost could very well _be_ Daniel, but from an alternate dimension, which would explain Daniel's reply to the insult.

This didn't hold up, however, since the ghost (tentatively dubbed "Double D") was clearly older than Daniel. Maybe, in some other dimension, Daniel had an older brother instead of an older sister, and he stumbled across the Fenton portal in a similar fashion to Daniel?

Yet being brothers, of a sort, wouldn't necessarily mean Double D considered Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley his friends, or that Daniel would view an insult to himself as identical to an insult to Double D. No, Vlad was inclined to believe that somehow they were…mirror images of one another. Or perhaps Double D had been created out of Daniel, somehow?

Vlad was intrigued, yet exasperated. Clearly there was something between Daniel and Double D, but with the information he had available he was simply spinning crazy theories. (Of course, he had certainly learned the hard way that if you could imagine it, it probably existed.) He closed the video file, suddenly uninterested in studying it further at the moment.

One thing out of all this was very clear, however. Double D was the one who…he was the one responsible for Samantha Manson's current state. Vlad, at least, had one key to the conversation Daniel didn't. When Double D had said he could destroy Daniel's world with three words, he must've been debating whether or not to tell the boy what he had done to his best friend. Although when it came down to it, he couldn't tell the boy, and Vlad wondered about this.

Double D was right, of course; it would've torn Daniel apart. This ghost seemed to know the boy, somehow, and knew something Vlad had only felt certain of after years of observing Daniel Fenton; Samantha Manson was one of the most beloved people in his life. And from that you could deduce, knowing the sort of person Daniel was, that ruining her life would also ruin his.


	5. Danny and Danny

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter 5: Danny and Danny**

**Author's Note Please Read:** This chapter is where the "adult themes" start coming in. If you think it's too mature, please tell me, and I can bump it up to "M". I don't want to get in trouble with the staff here. I personally think it still qualifies as Teen, but I may be confused on this point. oO

Also, in order to avoid confusion, Dan Phantom thinks of himself as Danny- if I refer to him as such it's because something's from his point of view. :) Erm...and also, this chapter is longer than the average chapter, don't expect the following chapters to all be this length. Okay, thanks for reading, sorry for the longwinded author's note, and I would be extremely grateful if you would let me know what you think after reading! (Even if it's flames- something in me tells me I deserve a few for this.) Also, grammar errors and stuff, if you see them...please, please let me know. :)

* * *

August 2, 7 ½ months after

In Amityville

Danny glanced back toward Tuck to throw him a parting "bye" as their paths parted on the way home. They'd just been to a movie (Vampire Alien Monsters Attack III) they'd been putting off seeing for months. Normally, Sam would've been the one to drag them along, and knowing it was her kind of movie made the experience strangely nostalgic.

Not surprisingly, Danny found his thoughts once again turning toward Sam as he made his way home. Of course, he thought, she could've been to see the movie, for all they knew. As Jazz had pointed out early on in the summer, Sam had left well prepared to take care of herself. Danny shoved this thought away, not wanting to think that Sam could be enjoying herself somewhere far away, without a thought for the pain she had caused the people she had left behind.

This summer had been Danny's worst by far. Jazz had calmed him down slightly early on by saying that Sam would probably come back on her own. But now it had been over four months, and Danny's hope was once again faltering. He couldn't help it, but lately resentment towards Sam was slowly surfacing. How could she leave them all behind like that?

The only thing holding back a tide of angry emotions was the possibility, still, that Sam _had_ to leave. In all honesty, Danny couldn't believe, deep down, that he had been so utterly in the dark about Sam's true character, and the Sam _he_ knew _wouldn't_ leave everyone and everything she knew behind on a whim. That meant there had been a very good reason for her to go. He just wished he knew what it was.

Danny found it difficult to believe that, if she had stayed, Sam's family and friends (specifically him) couldn't have helped in some way, whatever the problem was. Unless…the problem included them, somehow? Maybe she needed to get away from someone close to her for some reason?

Danny frowned to himself as he walked home. Was that it? She couldn't get their help because it involved them somehow? He didn't like this train of thought, because he knew the most threatening thing in Amity Park was the ghost population. The ghosts only knew her through him, which meant that the person she couldn't include, for whatever reason, was probably him. But what problem could Sam be having that involved ghosts that she couldn't tell him about?

Maybe it didn't have anything to do with ghosts at all? Yet her parents had said no when he had asked (it had been awkward, however delicate he tried to be about it) if there had been a family crisis or some problem in Sam's life he didn't know about. However, everything had seemed fine to them.

Of course, Danny knew that her parents, though very caring, were rather out of touch with a lot that went on in her life. Take her after school ghost hunting activities, for instance, or the fact that her best friend was half ghost. They were completely in the dark, and had been for years. (Of course, he thought wryly, his parents weren't any better, and they were _ghost hunters_.)

So that meant her reason for running away (assuming it was a good one, and he did) probably did have something to do with him. Danny had a feeling, as he walked along, that this thought had been simmering in the back of his mind for a while, but simply hadn't come to the surface until now. He'd been longing for a reason behind Sam's disappearance for months, and apparently his subconscious mind had been hard at work putting together an answer for him.

Jazz hadn't helped, Danny realized. She didn't know Sam as well as he did, and was convinced that she would come back before too long, and that whatever crisis Sam was going through wouldn't be big enough to keep her away from the people who could help her through it.

But Jazz was working from the assumption that Sam was embarrassed about something, or simply needed to be on her own for a while, or that this was simply some "adolescent phase" she was going through. Danny knew Sam better than that though, and after enough time passed by that he could think objectively about what had happened, he realized that she loved her friends and family too much to leave unless she had no other choice. He didn't think it would even _occur_ to her to leave, otherwise. Danny had to believe that.

As this explanation began to take hold within him, Danny could feel the fear and anxiety gradually welling back up as well. These feelings had been like an unending buzz in the back of his mind all summer long, sometimes louder, sometimes softer, but never completely gone. Now they were crescendoing higher than ever before. He began walking faster, fists clenched in his pockets, and eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown of concentration.

If he had reasoned things out correctly so far, the only question left was whether Sam was protecting her friends and family, herself, or both by leaving. Danny didn't see how going off on her own was safer for her than staying here, which meant that she was protecting friends or family. Possibly she was even protecting…_him_ specifically.

He stopped suddenly, feeling the need to fly, and burn off some of his frustration. He stepped into a side alley where he turned invisible and immediately took off into the sky, his thoughts already racing a mile a minute. Had Sam really left because of him specifically? He didn't know what he'd do if she was in trouble because she was trying to save him from something. He let out a frustrated growl and pushed himself as he flew, trying to go as fast as he could, and in minutes he was outside the city limits. He kept going, entire body tensed, as the wind whipped at near super sonic speeds around him. He brought up a shield in front of his face to deflect it.

All the worry and fear he'd been pushing down the past few months was back on the surface and twice as strong, but this time a sense of guilt was rising with it. If he didn't have these stupid powers, if he wasn't always including her in the ghost hunting, she might not be gone right now! Somehow this struck a deep nerve in him, and at the same time he was certain this was true. It just made perfect sense. Her leaving so suddenly was so incredibly abnormal, so something equally strange must've caused her to leave. And what was the only strange, abnormal thing in her life? Him! He was the problem. Somehow, some ghost had done something, or maybe a group of ghosts had done something, to make her leave. Had they threatened her? Was it a ghost he knew?

The urge to beat someone senseless rose up suddenly, and Danny found himself taking huge gasps of air. He stopped suddenly to get the surge of adrenaline under control, and hovered in the air. Distantly he could hear a sound that might've been a sonic boom overtake him, but the blood was pounding so strongly in his ears that he hardly noticed it. His vision, too, was tinged red; he knew he needed to calm down.

But it was hard, when he realized what was going on. Because somehow he was sure, though he didn't know how. It might've been intuition, but whatever it was this explanation just screamed at him that it was the right one. Sam was gone, and it had something to do with protecting him, or possibly her family, from a ghost or group of ghosts. His lips curled into a horrible grimace as he tried to picture whoever had driven her away. They were to blame, and, indirectly, her involvement in ghost fighting and with him.

The sense of guilt came welling up again, and with it rose a furious anger. Why the hell did he have to feel guilty for something someone _else_ had done? It wasn't like he had a choice about fighting ghosts! Was he supposed to let them wreak havoc? And Sam was his best friend; it was only natural she'd want to help! She was even _there_ when he got his powers! Danny let out a scream, his face toward the sky, and was aware that it wasn't a normal howl; it was instead the ghastly super destructive force of the ghostly wail, at its most powerful.

He wasn't the enemy here! The ghost or ghosts who drove Sam away were to blame, not him, and he wasn't going to feel guilty _for_ them! Yet the guilt refused to go away completely, and the feeling was like adding fuel to the fire; it only made him angrier.

Well, they would pay. He'd find out what had happened, and make it right. Then he'd get Sam back here, somehow. With this thought, a sense of longing rose up in his chest for the way things were before, and his anger ebbed a little. He'd fix things, and then he'd let Sam know it was safe, and that no one would ever hurt her or the ones she loved. Things would be good again. And then…Danny paused for a moment in his thoughts, his whole face scrunching up with emotion, but he couldn't stop from finishing the painfully wistful thought. And then…he'd tell her about his feelings for her.

He let himself sink downward, all the energy draining out of him as a feeling of depression washed over him, and after a moment he landed in a lightly forested area. Now that the anger was under control, he realized how hard it would be to get things back to normal. Sam obviously hadn't thought he could help when she left, yet she knew what he was capable of better than anyone, besides Tucker and Jazz. Who or what was it she was so sure he couldn't beat? And what made him so sure that she wasn't right?

Danny let himself drop to his hands and knees, head hanging down, and looked down at the grass below. He could feel tears starting to form. The truth was he wasn't sure if he could do anything, really. Sam was very smart, and if she didn't think it was something he could fix, then maybe it wasn't. And who said that beating up a few ghosts was all there was to it? Maybe something else was going on, something that couldn't be solved with a few ecto-blasts.

Danny let out a shuddering sigh as he thought of all the time he had wasted over the summer. Had he really thought she was just going to show back up one day? And if she _didn't_ come back on her own, how was he going to find her, even if he did make things safe back home? And even if he did find her, how did he know things could go back to the way they were between them, let alone…go further? Danny watched as a few tears dripped off the tip of his nose and fell into the grass, and let out another sigh. She wasn't a loner; she would've made some sort of friends, wherever she went, right? Maybe…maybe she even had a boyfriend. Danny's face screwed back up again at the thought. No, he couldn't think about that. Besides, he told himself, it wasn't like she was a fast moving person. Heck, she had to know someone for, oh, _most of her life_, before she'd be willing to date them.

A small smile surfaced on his face at that, and he sniffed loudly, sitting back on his heels. He looked up at the sky, and sniffed again, trying to clear away the tears. He needed to deal with one thing at a time, and sitting around worrying about how Sam might've changed wasn't going to help anything. And anyway, he didn't have any reason to think that she _had_ changed. Besides, he could hardly worry about what she thought of him when he didn't even know where she _was_ yet. Danny sighed, and finally felt a feeling of relative calm return as he gazed into the sky. After a moment he stood up, and started flying back home, more slowly this time.

Danny could feel the wind drying up his tears as he went, but his mind was a thousand miles away. He would have to find every ghost he had fought, and question them about Sam. This was something concrete he could start with, and he had to believe right now that it would lead somewhere. He'd questioned a few ghosts early on in his search for Sam, but he had been sporadic and disorganized about it. This time he would make a list and track them down systematically. No ghost would be left off, not even the Box Ghost. If there was some sort of conspiracy going on, even the Box Ghost might've heard of it (though Danny couldn't imagine him being involved.) He frowned in determination as he flew home. He would be nice at first, but if Danny thought someone was holding something back he wouldn't hesitate to rough them up. He did _not_ have anymore time to waste.

* * *

Technus, Skulker, the Box Ghost, Johnny 13 and Kitty, Ember, Walker, Desiree…and the list went on. He hadn't even gotten to the really tough ghosts yet, like Fright Night, or Vlad Plasmius.

Danny frowned down at the notepad in front of him. He was sitting cross legged in the middle of his bed, and was in the middle of compiling a list of ghosts to question. He frowned to himself. Vlad wasn't a full ghost, of course, but he was _definitely_ an enemy, and Danny would need to include all possible threats, not just ghosts. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past that disgusting Circus Gothica freak to try something for revenge, even though he didn't have any special powers anymore. Was he still in jail? Danny made a note on the pad to check on that.

Danny put the pad down and stretched his arms for a moment. Some of these confrontations were _not_ going to be fun, but at least he had strength on his side. Danny hadn't actually fought a lot of these ghosts for a while, but he felt sure most of them would no longer be a danger to him at all. He'd grown up a lot over the last year, and was now pushing six foot two in height. His voice had dropped over the summer as well, though it still cracked a lot. Overall he could be a lot more intimidating now when he felt like it, as compared to a few years ago. His powers had increased with age and use as well, including the ghostly wail. Danny could use it for longer periods of time now, and control its strength somewhat. He was finally putting on a little bulk, too. _Actually,_ he thought, _I'm finally starting to look a little like my future self._

Danny paused what he was doing, surprised at his train of thoughts. Slowly, he put down the pencil and got up from the bed, and then made his way over to the mirror to look at himself. His reflection was squinting back at him, looking concerned. He guessed it was a little freaky, but then what had he expected? In a way, it was a thought that popped up every once in a blue moon ever since his encounter with his future self. However evil he had been, his future self was still a reflection of what Danny would look like when he was full grown. Without the fangs, teeth, or smoldering hair, of course. Or the blue skin and snake tongue. As far as everything else went, though…they matched. In a way he begrudged his future self for having his face, since once in a while, as Danny had been growing into it, he would be put on guard (weirdly enough) whenever he looked in a mirror. He'd gotten over that quickly, of course.

The voice was the worst, though. He looked different enough physically, due to the lack of fangs and stuff, so his looks didn't bother him _that_ much. But his _voice_, especially when it first started dropping a few months ago, was another thing entirely. For the first few days it had freaked out Jazz and Tucker as much as him. They'd gotten almost completely used to it over the summer, but still…he almost wished his future self had been mute, or something. Then he wouldn't have a negative reaction to the sound of his _own voice_. Of course, by now he'd gotten used to hearing his new voice, and its association with his evil self had dropped away.

Danny smiled to himself. His dad had been overjoyed, thinking it was the coolest thing in the world. He seemed to think it was an appropriately "manly" voice, and perfect for a Fenton, and his son.

"My son! The one with the booming, manly voice!" He'd even said once, and in a crowded area. Danny winced slightly and rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed at the memory. Some things never changed.

His mom had been less excited, not wanting to let go of her little boy so soon.

"Well Danny, you're a young man now, there's no denying it," she'd said with a sad glint in her eye. He hadn't known what to say at the time, and had just smiled.

He moved back to his bed, letting himself fall back onto it, and looked up at the ceiling, mind wandering further. What was his future self _up_ to right now, anyway? He'd shown up out of the blue right before last Christmas, and Danny still didn't know what to make of it. Clockwork had shown up before they even started fighting, however, and had frozen his evil self in time. Apparently the Fenton thermos had given out, but Clockwork hadn't told him how he was going to hold Dan now. Maybe he'd use a bigger, better version of the Fenton thermos from the future? He was sure that something existed somewhere in time that could imprison his future self effectively, in any case.

But there were still a lot of unanswered questions Danny had about that day. The conversations with both Dan and Clockwork had been plain weird. Dan had threatened to ruin his life with three words, but wouldn't actually do it. Then Clockwork had shown up. They'd been about to fight, when suddenly there he was, everything else, Dan included, frozen in time.

Danny still remembered the feeling of immense relief as clear as day. He wouldn't have to fight his future self after all.

"Clockwork!"

"Hello, Danny." Clockwork had looked like a young man at the time.

Danny had straitened up from his crouch, and had attempted to relax somewhat.

"I thought you could keep him under control," he said, motioning toward Dan. He hadn't meant to sound so accusing, in retrospect, but Dan appearing out of nowhere had really shocked him.

Clockwork had raised his eyebrows and smiled secretively at him. "You're right. I underestimated the strength of the Fenton thermos, and he took the opportunity to escape when I was away on business. But I've caught up with him now, so there's no need to be afraid."

"I see." Danny couldn't help wondering where Clockwork had been during the escape, though, and why he didn't have more layers of protection in the first place. "I guess you'll have a better prison for him this time, though?" A thought occurred to Danny, one that should've been obvious. "In fact, couldn't you just keep him frozen in time?"

Clockwork chuckled, and spoke in a voice that, even after all this time, still seemed strangely ambivalent to Danny. "Yes and no. By staying in my home, he is already removed from time, most of the time." His mouth curled up into a smile, showing his amusement. "To freeze him in time within a timeless space would be very…tricky. Certain things could be thrown out of balance, and more problems would be created than solved, in the long run. Trust me on this."

"Then how are you going to keep him? Do you have something stronger than a Fenton thermos?"

Clockwork, still hovering in the air, had turned slightly to focus on Dan, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Put him out of your mind, Danny, and rest assured that things will be as they should be." He'd moved toward Dan, and had reached out to touch him, Danny following behind. As Clockwork had grasped hold of the phantom's wrist, he had turned to look back at Danny, and had held his eyes briefly in a piercing stare.

"Remember, Danny, everything happens for a reason." Then he had disappeared, and time had resumed.

Danny had stood thinking for a few minutes before heading back upstairs. He hadn't mentioned the encounter to anyone, for some reason. They didn't really need to know, since the problem had presumably been taken care of, and he guessed he hadn't told them because it would've made them worry for no reason. Danny had been tense and worried for a few hours afterward, even though Clockwork had said to put Dan out of his mind. That was just the effect seeing his future self again had caused, rational or not. And then there was the _way_ Clockwork had said things. He'd never said exactly how he was going to deal with Dan, something Danny would've liked to know. Also, Sam had been sick at the time, and she was normally the first person he confided in. By the time she was better he'd already moved on from it.

Actually, Danny was almost sorry for his future self, at times. It was true he'd done horrible things, but then he'd also lost everyone who was dear to him. Deep down, he wasn't sure...he hated to even think it, but…Danny wasn't sure he'd be all that different from his future self if the Nasty Burger explosion had taken his family and friends. So in a way, he could _almost_ understand some of the things about his future self, though he'd never, never admit it to anyone. It would be like giving away his deepest, darkest secret…

Danny shuddered. He'd promised during the fight never to turn into that horrible future self, but he'd done it with the conviction that his family and friends would come out _alive_. If they had died…he didn't want to think about it, but couldn't stop the subtle thoughts from leaking through. If…he _had_ lost everything, and even gone to live with Vlad, as his future self had done, what would have happened? He wouldn't have been stupid enough to split his ghost and human halves apart, but that didn't mean, even with his human half, that he wouldn't degrade over time into something evil.

Danny got up from his bed suddenly, and walked briskly back and forth to clear his mind. He did _not_ like where his thoughts had wandered. There were certain things he didn't want to think about, and that dark future was one of them. He ran his hand through his hair, and took a few slow, deep breaths of air to get some oxygen to his brain. He let the last one out in a whoosh and plunked back down on the bed, scooping up the notepad in the process. Right now he had other things to worry about, like getting Sam back.

* * *

The Ghost Zone

He was floating, alone, in a vast empty space. It wasn't completely empty, of course, but he had made his way to one of the truly peaceful areas of the ghost zone. Contrary to what some people might think, this place wasn't heaven or anything like it. It was simply a place for people to live, or at least exist, when they were too attached to something to truly move on after they had died. That meant, of course, that it wasn't a place for _normal_ dead people. Everyone here had something that held them there, though everyone moved on, eventually. Of course, sometimes a person was just plain obsessive about something, like Walker, for instance. He'd probably be around forever. And the Box Ghost too.

Danny snorted, and folded his arms together. Who was he kidding? He didn't know what this place really was, or if there even was a heaven for that matter. He sighed, even though it wasn't something he had to do; it was just a comforting habit he still clung to, like so many others. In many ways he still felt human, and so in a way that meant he was. Or something like that. He wasn't the philosophical sort, but when you have no one else to talk to, your mind goes the strangest places…

He hadn't seen another ghost for several days now. And no one had seen him in months. It was part of the agreement with Clockwork. He'd promised to stay invisible at all times, and to not "interfere" in any way. Or else. He hadn't known at first if he could do it, but in a way, being stuck in that thermos had taught him a lesson he'd never forget. Patience, and how to be calm when he needed to be. You just couldn't stay angry for two years straight, not when you were trapped in a space as small as the Fenton thermos!

Danny pushed himself forward languidly, and thought back, once again, to the last time he'd talked with Clockwork. He'd been seconds away from fighting his younger self, or running away, or something. He hadn't known what he was going to do, actually. But it hadn't mattered, because Clockwork had intervened, and suddenly he'd found himself floating with him in the ghost zone. Clockwork had begun speaking before Danny even had time to register the abrupt change of scenery.

* * *

"If you try to fight me, I'll have to lock you away again, and this time I might not let you back out." He looked serious, but calm at the same time, as though he didn't feel threatened in the least.

Something about Clockwork's attitude unnerved Danny, and the idea of being trapped in the thermos again hardly appealed, so he let his arms drop unthreateningly. He had been holding the fighting stance meant for his younger self.

"You didn't let me out. I escaped." Clockwork smiled and bent his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"My mistake. You escaped, of course." Clockwork raised his eyebrows. "And you picked the perfect time to do it." Suddenly his form shifted to that of an old man, and Danny was reminded of how ancient this creature in front of him was. He found he wasn't sure what to say or expect, so he simply watched the old ghost carefully.

"Danny, I don't want to put you back in the thermos, but you're my responsibility. I can't let you wreak havoc in this realm or the human world." Danny looked off to his left, avoiding the other ghost's gaze, and fought down a sudden wave of guilt. Clockwork was wrong; he'd already done damage. Still, he was _not_ going back in that damnable thermos. Clockwork went on speaking.

"I propose a truce. I'll let you roam free, but you cannot show yourself to anyone, or do anything to alter this world in any way. You must hide your existence completely from everyone. I suggest you simply stay invisible at all times." He raised a finger and his eyebrows to stop Danny from interrupting. "If you behave yourself, I will allow you to enter fully into this time stream. You'll able to start from scratch, build a life for yourself, all the things a human being should be able to do."

A dark cloud descended over Danny at the last comment. He felt the need to correct Clockwork. "I'm not human."

Clockwork gave him a strange look. "Of course. But you're still a person, and I'd like to see you build a life for yourself." His eyes narrowed and his voice grew suddenly harsh. "However, if you don't follow the rules, there is nothing I can do for you. I will be forced to remove you from this time stream permanently."

Danny couldn't help feeling unnerved by this. He had never found a way to kill a ghost, but maybe Clockwork had? Danny pursed his lips and crossed his arms, trying to look unconcerned.

"You'll kill me?"

"No." Clockwork met his gaze coolly. "It would be much worse than death, in my opinion. You would be confined inside a practically indestructible device even smaller than the Fenton thermos for a very, very long time. The past two years would be like the blink of an eye in comparison."

Danny's cool persona slipped a little. The thought of going back inside that damnable thermos was far from a pleasant one. Still, he hadn't been given any indication that Clockwork could actually get him inside one, at least by himself. This could be one huge bluff for all he knew. Still, better safe than sorry, he thought.

"What proof do I have that you can do _anything_ to me, Clockwork? My past self was the one to put me in that thermos, not you. You're no more than some crazy meddler for all I know." He waited for a reply, eyes narrowed in case Clockwork attacked.

He gasped as he suddenly felt the cool touch of metal to his neck, and it took him a second to realize what was going on. Clockwork had his scythe pressed against his jugular! Before Danny even had a chance to do something about the blade at his throat, however, Clockwork was back in front of him, once again at a safe distance. Danny clenched his jaw, feeling distinctly powerless. He _hated_ feeling powerless.

"As you see, I can take you anywhere or do anything to you, and you would be powerless to stop me. Sometimes I may _appear_ to be more inept than I am, if the situation calls for it, but in truth my control over time makes me more powerful than you can imagine. Normally, I'm not supposed to directly intercede, Danny, but in your case I can do _whatever_ I _want_. I've been given personal responsibility over you."

Danny found he couldn't look Clockwork in the face, and wished he was standing on firm ground if only to feel something under his feet. Somehow he couldn't make himself get angry, though the feeling of helplessness was growing fast. He had already spent two years trapped inside a space the size of his _fist_. He couldn't go back there, and was nearly willing to concede that if following the rules would keep him free, then he could follow the rules.

Still, Clockwork didn't seem to catch everything. Danny looked at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering. He had escaped nearly two days ago, yet Clockwork was just now catching up to him.

Some of his thoughts must've shown on his face, because Clockwork seemed to answer the unspoken question.

"No, Danny. I'm aware of everything that you've done since you escaped the thermos." His eyes were hard, and as cold as ice. "_Everything_." Then he knew about…? A wave of guilt washed over him, and he looked away again.

"Then why are we having this conversation?" His voice was rough with more emotion that he was comfortable showing. He clenched his fists, waiting for the game to end and Clockwork to come to his senses. He obviously had no intention of letting him go anywhere if he knew about _that_.

But the attack he'd been expecting never came. Instead, Clockwork continued speaking, his voice slow and steady. It wasn't cold like before, but it wasn't compassionate either.

"Feeling _guilty_, Danny? Don't answer. I can see it on your face. She was your best friend once; you _should_ feel guilty. What did she ever do, except love you?" Danny couldn't believe it, but somehow this was worse. A fight, or even a beating, he could've handled, but this quiet reprimand was tearing him to pieces. He was actually coming close to tears, and didn't trust his voice enough to speak.

"The reason I'm giving you a chance isn't because you've _proven_ yourself to me in the last two days." He snorted. "Far from it."

Suddenly Clockwork was in his face, only inches away. Danny flinched backward, but the other ghost had grabbed hold of his shoulders. His eyes were eerily intense, and when he spoke his voice dropped to a harsh whisper.

"_Never forget this guilt, Danny. Never. And with that feeling in your heart, look over what you've done with your life for the last decade, and tell yourself if you really like what you see_." Clockwork moved back after a moment, giving Danny back his personal space. "Then think about this world, and how things could be different. Think about your true feelings for Sam, and your family. Maybe someday, if you behave, you might even be a part of that again, in some form or fashion."

Danny looked away, face twisting. He'd blown any chance at that two days ago, when he...when he hurt Sam. He wanted to collapse and bury his face in his hands as despair suddenly welled up inside him, but couldn't let himself in front of Clockwork. What had he _done_? Ashamed of the tears he was dangerously close to shedding, he turned to face completely away from the time master.

Clockwork continued speaking to his back. "You have the chance to _change_, Danny, and perhaps someday make amends. Don't throw it away. I'll be watching you, and if you follow the rules I'll return to give you your complete freedom." His voice became harsh again, and cooled to glacial standards. "I you don't, I pity your existence. Death would be more kind."

After a moment he went on, and it seemed to Danny that his voice was fading. "Be patient, and follow the rules. You must not interfere, and you must not be seen. You have ten years of bad deeds to think over, Danny, and coming to terms with that will take some time. But rest assured that I will return." Danny turned back around, sensing that Clockwork was finished speaking, but when he looked the master of all time (and, now, his master too) had already gone.

* * *

That had been at least half a year ago, maybe longer. Danny wasn't really keeping track, not that it was an easy thing to do in the Ghost Zone. He wasn't confined there, of course, and had been to the human world several times, always remaining invisible and intangible. The only place truly off limits was Amity Park. He wouldn't go within two thousand miles of that place. He _couldn't_.

He couldn't stand to see Sam, and the others. To see his younger self when he realized what his "evil future self" had done. No, it was better that he stay away from them, in order to avoid the stronger emotions. He knew he lost his temper too easily, and couldn't risk showing himself in anger. Or in remorse, perhaps. He didn't know what he'd do, actually, and wasn't about to find out.

This relatively deserted part of the Ghost Zone was good for collecting his thoughts, and for calm contemplation. He would always come back here after being in the human world, in order to reclaim emotional balance.

He had been doing what Clockwork had suggested, on and off. With only himself as company for months, and with violence or any other action that could change something in this world strictly off limits, Danny was left with his own thoughts. He'd thought through a lot of his past actions over the past several months, and had come to one conclusion so far.

He'd been acting, almost instinctively, out of anger and pain for the past _ten years_. Actually, he didn't think he'd had a clear thought in his _head_ until he'd been trapped in the thermos for a good while. And that was only because the confined space had forced him to stop and think…eventually. It was ironic, really. He'd been proclaiming himself free from human emotion all this time, and that was what had been ruling him.

He had been angry and upset when separated from his human half all those years ago. He had a vague recollection of what had been left behind, and it seemed to him that he'd gotten all the harsher emotions while his human half had gotten the softer, weaker ones. Anger, resentment, a little fear, the urge to hurt something- these were strong in him, while his human half must've gotten the sadness and that overwhelming sense of loss he remembered feeling before the separation. He still felt the so called softer emotions, and he still felt the sense of loss. But it was muted enough that he could tune it out by destroying things. A good solid rampage had never failed to destroy the lingering sadness, if only for a little while.

So was that what the past ten years had been? His attempt at avoiding the pain of loss that, deep down, was still present even in his ghost form? Of course, there had been Vlad as well. He wasn't sure what had happened there, though he knew that _he_ was still _him_, and _Vlad_ was still _Vlad_. Only now he had Vlad's ghost powers as well as his own.

Things had gotten darker with the merge, though. He'd felt less in control for several minutes afterward. It had been painful, and he had felt the need to lash out at anything and everything for a while. That was the reason he'd killed his other half that day. It hadn't been premeditated; it had been instinctual. Seeing himself there sniveling on the ground had disgusted him for some reason, and the urge to destroy was already pumping through his veins.

Vlad was incredibly lucky that the urge to escape coupled with the urge to fly had taken precedence over the urge to kill again. Otherwise, Danny knew Vlad would've died that day, next to Danny's other self.

He had been wondering lately why his ghost half seemed so much harsher than his human half, and was curious on some level about whether, if it could be done again, the two halves would always split the way they did. If _he_ had taken the majority of the sadness and despair, instead of the anger and hurt, would he still have attacked Vlad and his other self? He didn't think so. Things might've been very different.

Danny sighed to himself, and let his mind wander. How much longer would it be before Clockwork showed up? He would have questions for him when he did. There were many things that concerned him directly that he knew nothing about. He had never bothered to explore the nature of his ghost body (beyond training it into a weapon), or what exactly had happened when he overshadowed Vlad's ghost half all those years ago. It was amazing to him that he was only asking these questions now, but then he'd only now gotten past his need to destroy things.

It had been a pathetic existence, really. And at the time he had nearly convinced himself that what he had was better than what he had lost. How utterly delusional- he'd had it completely reversed! Now all he felt was a sense of regret. He'd been blind and selfish, taking out his pain and anger on countless innocents in the process of his self denial.

If there was one thing he had decided in these months of solitude, it was that he was never going to kill again. He'd had enough of it. It was something he would never do, even if it was in self defense. Somehow, he felt this was an iron clad truth. It wasn't something he promised himself; it was simply something that would _never_ come to pass. That part of his life was over forever.

Clearly he was no judge of who should live and who should die. For all he knew, no one had the right to judge that. But he had proved that he personally wasn't qualified beyond the shadow of a doubt. He had tried to kill off his own loved ones, for goodness sake!

This was a subject Danny had spent a long time on, and the further away he got from the mindset he'd been in during that time, the more crazy his reasoning at the time seemed. He had been absolutely convinced that the future _he_ knew _had_ to happen. You couldn't change the past; that was simply impossible. As such, that meant the Nasty Burger explosion would have to kill his family and friends. There was no escaping it. It had been inevitable. In a way, he was obsessed with that accident, and had been for the past ten years. The idea that it could be stopped was simply unthinkable.

Therefore, he'd done everything in his power to make sure it happened, and happened how he _remembered_ it. He'd had multiple chances to simply kill family members before the explosion, especially Jazz, but then it wouldn't have been _the same_. In retrospect, he had been obsessed _and_ illogical. He'd been changing things right and left by even _being_ in the past! What made him think the future wouldn't be completely different in _any_ case, regardless of whether the explosion killed his loved ones or not? At the time, though, he had been certain of how things worked, while at the same time working off of emotion more than logic. And, irony of ironies, he'd boasted back then about being emotionless.

There had been another factor driving him. There was the fear, hardly even acknowledged, that if things were changed in the past, he would cease to exist. The person he knew to be himself, at least, would be replaced with someone else. And where did that leave him?

In short, he'd been one seriously crazed up fruit loop. Danny grinned to himself. He used to call Vlad that, years ago. The grin faded after a moment. He was better off now, though. Danny knew that being able to see his faults was a good sign, so things were finally heading in the right direction. He didn't want to go down the road of the past ten years ever again, whatever the future held for him.

Danny let his mind relax again, and could feel that familiar sense of guilt welling back up, though it wasn't as sharp as it once was. Over the months, it had broadened to include the misdeeds over the past decade, though the focus had initially been on Sam.

_Sam_. He had…never done that to anyone before. She had been the first. In all his years of rampaging, he'd never turned to that for comfort. It had always been a lust for violence he'd had, and nothing else. As he found himself looking back at the encounter he'd had with her, he realized that one strange coincidence after another had led into what had happened between them.

The first coincidence had happened shortly after he'd escaped from the thermos, which had been a fluke in and of itself. (Every once in a while he would bash against the walls as best he could, and on that occasion, amazingly, he had hit something just right to actually get out.) He'd flown through Clockwork's time portal without doing much more to it than setting the location somewhere in Amity Ville, and upon arriving he'd realized he was only about a block away from Sam's house.

He wasn't actually sure what he wanted to do first, or even what day it was. The only thing he had known for certain at that point was that he wanted revenge against his younger self for locking him away for over two years. As such, he had decided to check things out at Sam's place.

He'd turned intangible, and made his way over. Upon flying through the front door, he'd thought the house was empty, and had made his way up to Sam's room, almost out of habit, strangely enough.

She'd been in the shower, which had been the second coincidence. This had caused a few goose bumps to rise, but he'd ignored that, and had taken the opportunity to hop on her laptop and find out what day it was. It seemed unlikely that his other self was at school if Sam wasn't. And he was right. It had been a Saturday morning, a little after nine o'clock, and it was the start of the winter break. Her e-mail had been open, and he'd gone ahead and perused it as well. Her parents had just left the day before, and would be gone for a week. They'd sent her an e-mail late last night letting her know they'd arrived safely. Her Grandmother, who had wanted a change of scenery, was with them. So Sam was alone for a week.

That was when he had first started concentrating on her, instead of his other self. He had gone through her other e-mails, suddenly interested to find out what her plans for the day were. Knowing his other self and Tucker, they wouldn't even be up until past ten since it was a Saturday. And this was the first day of the break, too, so they were pretty much guaranteed to be asleep for the next few hours. As this thought had been running through Danny's head, he'd heard the water cut off, and had quickly put things back the way they were, going invisible in the process. Then he had waited for her to come out, still not sure what he was doing there.

It had been a few minutes, during which time his thoughts had roiled in his head. What _was_ he doing here? Sam had been…special to him, but that was a long time ago. In a way, _she_ was the ghost here, not him. But still, he couldn't deny a certain longing to see her again, and a sudden pang of jealousy towards his other self had surfaced when he realized this. What had he been up to in the past few years, anyway? Were he and Sam still best friends, or were they something more? Suddenly he had been certain that the Danny in this time period had stepped up the relationship, or would soon, and his jealousy had quadrupled.

He didn't know what would happen, if Clockwork would find him again, or if his past self would beat him again. It was a possibility, especially since the _other_ Danny had had time to train and grow stronger over the past two years, whereas _he_ had been trapped and unable to train. He had to be weaker than he was two years ago, come to think of it, and for all he knew, he could be getting his butt kicked in a few hours, or a few days!

And his other self would still be here, to enjoy his life. To enjoy his family and friends, and Sam, while _he_ would be trapped, miserable and alone. Something had cried out inside of him at the injustice of it. He'd lost everything, and yet here it was being held tantalizingly in front of him. It was like fate was saying "this is what you can never have". Why did his other self get the perfect life, and not him?

Sam had come out of the bathroom just then. She'd been wearing a towel on her head, presumably the one she'd used to dry off with. Because besides that, she was naked.

He had stared openly at her, embarrassed and mesmerized at the same time. She had matured in the last two years, her angles turning into curves, and was glowing from the shower. She was beautiful. He'd known it on some level before, but now…it just screamed at him. And he had wanted her, he realized, as he'd watched her walk over to her chest of drawers. He had looked around at that point, surreptitiously, to see if all the windows and doors were closed.

And somehow, at the time, he'd justified to himself what he was about to do. He'd told himself his other self would have her for the rest of his life, while he would have nothing if he didn't take it then. He'd told himself that he deserved this, after everything that had happened to him, all the losses he had suffered. And there had been one thing he could take that his other self would never get back, and that was Sam's first time. He would be her first, and _nothing_ could ever change that. This had wiped out the fact, temporarily, that she wouldn't be willing.

He'd moved forward to close her laptop, and she'd turned around at the sound. He'd stayed invisible as he moved the laptop off her bed and over to the desk. Her jaw had dropped, and she'd run towards the dresser. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a Fenton thermos sitting on top of it. He'd cut her off, becoming visible in the process. He could still see her look of horror in his mind's eye as he had pulled the towel away from her and backed her toward the bed. She'd known what was coming.

It wasn't much, but he _had_ been gentle with her. He'd gone slowly and carefully, wanting her to enjoy it too, even while knowing it wasn't going to happen as he would've liked. She didn't want him, and there was nothing he could do to change that. Still, her body had reacted, against her will, to his delicate caresses. Her subconscious mind had accepted what was coming even if she hadn't, and had prepared her body for the intrusion as best it could. So at least he could take comfort in the fact that he hadn't hurt her much, at least physically. The mental scarring, however, would probably never disappear completely, and for that he was miserable every day.

Afterwards, he remembered, when they were lying in bed together, and he had been enjoying the afterglow of the experience, his conscience had finally started catching up with him. He'd tried…he'd _actually_ tried justifying himself to her, and looking back he could only cover his face in shame.

He'd been relaxed, and so had she; at least, she hadn't been noticeably tense. What was done was done; there had been no more reason to struggle. He'd had his head buried in the space between her head and her shoulder, one arm flung lightly over her waist. For a moment he could pretend that this was their wedding bed, perhaps, and that she had wanted this. He'd pushed the fantasy too far, though, when he had suddenly wanted to look into her eyes, hoping against hope to find something wonderful there. He could still remember the conversation that had followed word for word.

He had moved up a bit, resting on his side, and had propped his head up using his right arm, bent at the elbow. Then he'd reached up with the other arm to cup the back of her head and turn her face toward his. She had refused to meet his eyes.

"Look at me." She had slowly brought her eyes up to meet his. At first they were distant, but after a few moments they really focused in on him, and when they did it had been horrible. They were accusing, and cold, though he could see a burning resentment boiling up through the icy exterior. Against all reason, he had been surprised and hurt.

"Don't look at me like that." His tone had been soft, but the mild anger in it had caused a slight flicker of fear in her eyes.

"How do you expect me to look at you?" Her voice was equally quiet, and a little hoarse. She'd cried some earlier, and had yelled for help.

He hugged her to him then, and spoke into her ear. In retrospect, his voice must've sounded desperate, but he couldn't remember.

"Sam…Sam…I know I've changed a lot, but I'm still Danny. I'm still the kid you grew up with. If nothing else, just acknowledge that. I don't expect you to love me," even though he did. He'd pulled back from her and looked her in the eyes. Her mouth had been tight, and her eyebrows were furrowed. Then, slowly, as her eyes darted back and forth between his eyes, a look of betrayal had risen to the surface.

She'd looked away then, trying to mask it. "You're not…you're not Danny. Maybe you were once, but not anymore." Her voice wobbled slightly on the last word.

He'd gotten angry suddenly. Of course he was Danny! That was his name, damn it! And she'd better recognize that! He'd shaken her slightly, and spoken loudly.

"Say my _name_, Sam." He had shaken her again, once, when she didn't respond. "Say it!" His lips were pulled back in a grimace. How _dare_ she!

The tears he'd seen hints of finally started to fall as she lost her cool in return and yelled back at him. "Then how could you _do_ this to me?" She'd let out a pathetic sob, which was a sound he'd never forget, and had whispered once again, "how _could_ you, Danny?"

She'd said his name. He'd gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? Then why did he feel like crying all of the sudden? At that point, he'd had to justify himself to her, explain his actions. His voice had been shaky, and he'd spoken fast and with intensity, but still quietly. He didn't want to yell at her anymore; he just wanted her to _understand_.

"He'll have you for the rest of his _life_, Sam. He has everything, and I have nothing. I had to live through your death, and I'm going to have you taken away again, I'm sure. Is it so wrong that I want to be with you like this, if only once? I'll never have this again!" He'd stopped, his face twisting into a mask of misery, and he saw that finally their faces matched. She was still crying, letting out tiny sobs.

"You're dating him, aren't you?" She'd looked away, her misery temporarily replaced with embarrassment.

"I…not really."

"But you like each other a lot." She looked back at him, suddenly looking distraught.

"Yes." Her eyes were begging him to stop, and he looked away.

"Then what I said is true. He'll probably enjoy you for the rest of his life, and when I saw you this morning, I couldn't stop myself from taking a little of that for myself." He looked back at her, and his eyes asked for the forgiveness he could not. Her eyes begged him not to ask, though. After a moment, she looked away again, eyelashes wet with tears.

He'd realized then that nothing more could reasonably be expected of her, and that he was being a fool. A sense of gloom had quickly descended over him, and he was already beginning to feel nostalgic about their encounter. He began wondering how much time had passed; an hour perhaps? He would need to get going soon.

But he wasn't quite ready to leave, and had hugged her to him one more time, trying to memorize the feeling.

"Sam, please just give me my name. Please." It came out almost a whisper, and she had tensed under him at the request. He waited nervously for her response.

"I already have, Danny." He'd pulled back to look at her, but she was looking off to the side, eyes sadder than he could ever remember seeing them. But the acknowledgement was good enough. It had to be. It was certainly better than anything he had a right to hope for, he knew.

He'd leaned forward to kiss her one last time, and then had gotten up from the bed. He'd been tempted to use the shower, but decided the quick fix of intangibility would work until he found somewhere else to bathe. He'd wanted his last memory of this place to be of Sam. After going intangible briefly, Danny had gone about getting dressed. After finishing, he'd gone back over to the bed, and picked up Sam's hand. She had looked up to briefly meet his gaze, her tears having finally stopped. She'd looked tired and deeply sad, but the hate from earlier was mostly gone.

"Goodbye, Sam." Other words stuck in his throat. He'd almost said 'thank you', but couldn't do it. It had seemed cheap, somehow. And deep down he'd almost wanted to say 'I'm sorry'. Instead he'd just held her hand for a moment before letting go, and a moment later he'd flown up through the roof of her house. He hadn't seen her since.

Danny sighed to himself as he continued to float aimlessly through the ghost zone. Someday he wanted to make amends, as Clockwork had suggested. If that wasn't possible, then he'd at least try his best to make up for what he had done in some way.

At the very least he would tell her he was sorry someday, and promise never to hurt her again. And…if she wanted…if she wanted, he'd promise to stay out of her life completely.

* * *

Author's Note: Comments are extremely appreciated. If you've got to choose a chapter to review, make it this one:) Oh yeah, if you were thinking about saying it...I already know I'm evil. :)


	6. Mrs Anna Billsbury

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter 6: Mrs. Anna Billsbury **

August 21, 8 months after

"Come on back." Sam got up slowly from the couch in the maternity center waiting room at Idaho State Hospital, and followed the nurse into another room built to accommodate expectant mothers.

"Upsidaisy." Sam remained silent as the middle aged woman, Nurse Kelly, helped her up onto a special chair designed to make ultrasound scans easy. "You're almost there, Mrs. Billsbury! Just one more month to go."

It took a moment for Sam to respond. _Right…_I'm_ Mrs. Billsbury_. "Right. Can't wait for that," Sam answered absentmindedly. She didn't exactly dislike Nurse Kelly, who would probably be assisting with the birth in a few weeks, but she was just too cheerful all the time. It wasn't natural; that smile wasn't natural. If the woman had simply been calm and composed instead of going for a blatantly false sense of cheer, Sam would be more comfortable around her. As it was, Nurse Kelly made you feel like there was probably something to be worried about, since she always wore her "don't panic" smile.

The nurse continued speaking. "Looks like we'll do the normal check up, and also an ultrasound. I'm rather excited to have a look at the baby, Mrs. Billsbury, aren't you?" As she spoke, she was already prepping for the ultrasound.

"Yes, definitely." And she _was _looking forward to it. But she was also nervous. She needed to speak to Dr. Evans today, and it wasn't going to be an easy conversation. "Dr. Evans is going to be here, right? I kind of need to speak to him about a few things." _Like the possibility of floating away during the birth._

She nurse glanced up from what she was doing. She looked a little surprised. "He should be here in a few minutes, no worries. But I may be able to answer some of your questions in the mean time?" Nurse Kelly smiled and winked at her as she finished throwing a blanket over Sam's legs, whose dress had been pulled up for the ultrasound. "I _am_ a woman, after all. I still remember what it was like during my first pregnancy. You don't know what's normal and what's not, if you're worrying over silly things or if it's something really important. You can ask me _anything_, sweetheart, no matter how silly you think it is."

_Riiiight_. Sam really didn't know how to turn the nurse down politely, but somehow she was pretty sure any advice the woman could give wouldn't help with her particular problem. She didn't have to worry long, though, since Nurse Kelly only paused for a moment before going into a story about one of her own pregnancies. (She had three children; two boys and a girl.) Before long, Sam was hearing, in full detail, about things, thankfully, she hadn't experienced herself.

* * *

"…and I thought, well, is it _really_ supposed to be that bright green color? It didn't seem natural, and obviously I wasn't taking any chances…Oh, hello Dr. Evans!" Sam quickly woke up from her Nurse Kelly induced stupor. The doctor was here! _Finally_! She could only put up with so many disgusting stories about bodily functions in one day.

"Hello, Mrs. Billsbury, how are you feeling today?" Dr. Evans looked like a decent guy to Sam. He was average looking, a little shorter than usual, in his late forties, maybe, and with light brown hair and eyes. Brown eyes were fairly unusual, actually, and probably his most striking feature. He was calm and quiet spoken, and also quick to get to the point.

She answered his question. "Everything's fine. I stopped working last week, so I spend most of my time at the apartment. I'm fixing all my own meals, so I'm definitely getting enough protein at this point." (The doctor had expressed concern early on about her vegetarian diet.) "And I keep the cell on me at all times now." Best to get all the essentials out, since she already knew some of what he was going to ask.

"You're still getting around okay? Still feel both feet?" As he talked, he was using a stethoscope to quickly check her breathing and heart beat. Nurse Kelly was ready with the ultrasonic scanner, lubricating jelly already applied to Sam's expansive stomach.

"Yeah, everything's great. I'm even doing a little exercise," Sam hurried to go into more detail as the doctor gave her a concerned look. "Not much at this point, of course, just what you said was okay. Mostly stretching, actually." They didn't want her straining herself, or falling down, and going into premature labor, which she understood. But the stretching and light workouts were what kept her from developing a nerve pinch (due to the extra weight), and many of the other problems associated with heavily pregnant women. And she had a very light build; she needed this more than some would.

Dr. Evans gave her a smile, and moved to give the nurse better access to her tummy. Sam turned her head to watch the screen, and they all grew silent as the nurse positioned the scanner to best display her unborn child. He came into the picture fairly quickly, and Sam could feel her heart melting. There was really nothing to compare, seeing a glimpse of him like this, and all her worries slipped away for a few moments. A flip was switched, and suddenly she could hear her child's heartbeat.

A decidedly sappy smile was plastered across her face as Dr. Evans started pointing out things to her. His arms and legs looked good, his heartbeat was steady, he appeared to have all of his fingers and toes…everything was going well. The truth was she hadn't been in for an ultrasound in over three months, opting for the minimum in hospital bills. And now, he was so, so…he looked like a baby. He was a little too small right now, but basically this was the child she'd be holding in her arms in less than a month. It was amazing, and the only thing that was missing was someone close to share the moment with.

"Would it be possible to get a picture of the ultrasound, you know, to embarrass my kid with years from now?" She let out a half hearted chuckle.

"Of course, and if you want, we can even record a few minutes of the heartbeat." For once, Nurse Kelly's voice was tranquil and quiet. There was something strangely lulling about hearing that heartbeat.

"That would be really great."

"And I'm sure your husband will be overjoyed to have these things, when he gets back." The nurse smiled at her happily.

"Yeah, he will, probably." Sam stared intently at the ultrasound picture, feigning fascination (which wasn't hard at all) to avoid the nurse's gaze. They thought she was married, and that her husband was oversees. They also thought she was a natural blond. She sighed to herself, and tried to contain the pang of loneliness.

"It must be hard, not having him around, but at least it's only a few more months before he's due back, right Mrs. Billsbury?" The nurse had misconstrued her look, but she had to play along.

"Yeah, he should be back on the 25th of October. Then he'll be helping me with a different kind of job." She smiled in a hopefully convincing way. The truth was the next few months were sure to be grueling since she'd be all alone with an infant on her hands.

The doctor, all business, picked up asking questions again. Was she ever dizzy? How much was she sleeping, did she feel fatigued, how was her digestion? And so on. Thankfully things were really going remarkably well. She could be a textbook example of the ideal pregnancy, if it wasn't for one tiny insignificant detail.

* * *

"Dr. Evans, I need to talk to you alone for a few minutes." Nurse Kelly had just left the room, and he had just entered. Sam knew this was the perfect opportunity for their little talk. Plus she was already cleaned up from the ultrasound and ready to leave. She sat up a little as the doctor closed the door behind him.

"Of course. You can tell me anything." He sat down nearby, waiting. Now that she had his attention, though, she wasn't sure how to begin. Of course, she had thought about what to say ahead of time, and it was definitely not going to be 'the truth, all the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.' That would be disastrous. So she tried to stumble into her pre-planned story.

"I…my family is very, very unusual. This is going to sound weird, but…we have supernatural powers." The last words came out slowly and sounded absolutely ridiculous to her. That was a horribly bad start! "What I mean is, you know in the comic books how some superheroes can fly, or turn invisible, stuff like that?"

Dr. Evans nodded slowly. He looked strangely closed off, as if he was trying his best to distance himself emotionally from what she was saying. At least he didn't look like he thought she was crazy…yet. She plunged onward.

"My dad's like that, you see. He can turn invisible, and he can pass through things. And…and I have a brother who can fly. Heh, p-pretty crazy, huh?" She didn't wait for him to respond. "I don't have any powers I know of, so maybe it only runs in the males? My grandfather on my Dad's side could fly too, apparently." She had looked down, not wanting to see the Doctor's face. "Look, I know this sounds absolutely crazy, but you've _got_ to believe me. The only reason I'm telling you is in case Nathaniel does something crazy during the pregnancy. He might, because less than a month ago I found myself levitating above my bed, so it _is_ possible."

"Nathaniel?"

Sam looked up to see the doctor smiling pleasantly. "Er. M-my baby. That's what I'm going to call him."

He leaned back and folded his hands comfortably. "My little brother's name is Nathaniel. It's a good name." He paused, and Sam waited for him to address the real issue. Had he gone into denial? Did he think she was crazy? "Is there anything else I should know about?" She looked at him, confused, and he clarified. "Any other powers?"

"I," this didn't make sense. Why wasn't he reacting? Was he just playing along with her? "Yes. Sometimes when these powers are used, I know my brother would…his skin would change color, and his temperature would drop."

"Was it a blue color?" Sam's eyes widened in amazement. _How…?_

"Actually…yes, it _was_. How did you…?" She waited for an explanation.

Dr. Evans let out a slow breath of air. "Well, years ago, when I had only been here for a few months, there was this…occurrence. A young woman was brought here for emergency treatment. She'd fallen, and was going into premature labor. Looking back, I don't think she planned to give birth at a hospital, but this accident forced her hand. Things were touch and go for a while. It looked like we might have to perform surgery to get it out. But then, and this is where things go into the absolutely surreal, Mrs. Billsbury." The doctor gave a little chuckle. "Then, she just started…floating. In the air, about two feet above the table. And she did, in fact, turn blue. A few minutes passed by where we just watched; there were a few nurses helping out. And then she floated back down, and became…normal again. After that the birth went fine. Over in a few minutes time."

Sam was dumbfounded; she just didn't now what to think. There were…others out there? Had the woman been a ghost, or a halfa? The sheer unlikeliness of this happening amazed her. There couldn't be _that_ many people like that running around, after all, and the fact that it happened with the _same_ doctor...?

Still, it made things so incredibly easy for her, and it's hard to really ask questions when things are going your way. So she let it drop; it was and would remain a really big coincidence, nothing more.

She smiled over at him, eyebrows raised. "_Amazing_. I hadn't realized there were other people out there like that, but I guess it makes sense." She rubbed the back of her neck and smiled uneasily. "At least you don't think I'm _crazy_. Heh, how likely is it that I'd find the one doctor who completely believes me?"

"So…I guess I'll be watching out for that blue skin as well, just in case?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah…I guess you will." Sam smiled again, a little more tentatively. She was still completely and utterly surprised by all of this. And she'd thought _he_ would be in for the surprise, not the other way around! "So…have you kept up with this lady, by chance. Er, she might be a relative or something."

"No. I think she was an illegal alien, actually. Or else she didn't want to be found. No social, no insurance. No last name, even. She was in and out in less than a day, and hardly spoke when she was here. I don't think she felt comfortable in a hospital."

"Ah. To bad. Did…what did she look like?"

"She could've been anywhere from mid twenties to mid thirties, petite, dark brown hair. Hispanic, or maybe Italian. She had fairly universal features. That's about all I remember. I'm sorry I can't tell you more." He smiled again. "Is there anything else?"

Sam paused for a moment before answering. This conversation had gone so far away from where she had _expected_ it to go, she had to backtrack for a moment.

"_Yes_. Please…don't tell anyone about this. I know you may really want to discuss it. I mean, scientifically it has to be pretty amazing." She looked down at her hands, and tried her best to look like she was pleading for mercy. Her voice came out sounding tense and embarrassed. "But my husband doesn't know, none of my friends know...it's stayed in the family, and if my son doesn't have any powers, there's no reason…for anyone else to find out." She looked back up, puppy dog eyes in full swing. "So, I'm calling on the privacy necessary for every good doctor-patient relationship." Calling on someone's higher nature was never a bad idea too.

They looked at each other for a few moments, and then he seemed to make up his mind. "Alright. I understand. It's your decision, of course." Sam bit down on the urge to smile in triumph, and pushed her hand a bit further.

"And if it's possible, I'd really prefer that none of the nurses were told either. Only if it's absolutely necessary, of course."

Dr. Evans gave her a half smile, and stood up slowly. "As you wish, Mrs. Billsbury. Your secret is safe with me." He helped her down from her chair. "And…if there are more children in the future, please look me up."

She smiled back, incredibly relieved this conversation was over, and played along. She was a married woman after all. "I wouldn't _dream_ of going anywhere else."

They made their way out of the room, and headed back toward the sitting room and the way out. He stopped halfway, at the men's bathroom. "This where I must leave you, Mrs. Billsbury. Keep the cell phone charged! I'll see you in a few weeks time." He gave her a wide smile and pushed his way into the bathroom. Sam continued up to the front, in a very good mood.

* * *

Dr. Mark Evans closed and locked the bathroom door behind him. It was a one person room. He went over to the sink, leaned heavily against it, and let out a strained sigh. A few moments passed in which he allowed himself to simply stare down at his hands, his brain zoning out. He wasn't used to this kind of stress.

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of someone slowly clapping their hands behind him.

"Very _good_, Dr. Evans. You could have had a career as an actor." The doctor turned around slowly to face the disembodied voice, pressing his hands against the counter to stop them from shaking. The 'visitor' was hovering in the air a few feet away, red eyes glowing, and fangs bared in a dark smile.

"Actually, I get stage fright." It came out as a whisper, and Mark found himself looking at his toes.

The ghost crossed his arms over his chest. "Speak _up_, man, I didn't catch a word of it."

"I said, I get stage f-fright." His voice cracked on the word fright. There were other kinds of fear as well, however. The fear of death, for instance, could probably make anyone a good actor.

The ghost, because that's what he was, continued speaking. "Ah, well, it just proves what you can do when properly _motivated_." His smile widened. He called himself Vlad Plasmius, and was the most terrifying thing Mark had ever come across. "There's nothing to worry about, my dear doctor, so long as you continue to play your part." The ghost began to absently study the nails on his right hand, and pursed his lips. "She appears to have bought the story. I had a hunch she might bring this up today. It's a good thing we prepped, isn't it, doctor?" He glanced back up, waiting for an answer.

"Yes, I suppose so." Mark was a little calmer now, having recovered from the initial surprise of Vlad's presence. "You were there the entire time?"

"Of course. As I said, I will be keeping an eye on you to make certain you keep your word. I would _hate_ for the world to lose such a talented doctor."

Mark caught his eyes, but only held them for a moment. A person's eyes were not supposed to be _red_. "I wouldn't dream of going against you. You," his voice dropped a little. "You don't have to remind me of what will happen. I understand, _believe_ me."

"Oh, I do. No one would be more saddened than me if you wife and children were left all alone, to fend for themselves." The saccharine tone was so over the top it verged on sarcastic. Mark kept his eyes glued to the floor, and tried to control his heart rate. _Just go away, please, you've made your point. Leave my family out of this._

But Vlad wasn't quite ready to go yet, it seemed. "Be sure to mention the 'grant' to her next time. As I said, I'll be covering all the hospital fees from here on in. Consider this a down payment." Mark saw a wad of cash fall to the floor in front of him, and looked up, surprised. The ghost had mentioned paying before, but he hadn't really believed him.

"Come now, Dr. Evans! You hold up your end of the bargain, and I'll hold up mine. If everything goes smoothly, you can expect a tidy bonus for your efforts, as promised." When Mark didn't say anything in response, Vlad began rising up through the ceiling. "I'll be seeing you later, then, doctor, if that is all."

A moment later he was gone, and Dr. Mark once again sagged against the counter. After a moment he sank to the floor, and stared down at the money. At least that…_creature_ seemed to be pleased right now. If he could just get through the next few weeks, things would go back to normal. And if he could just not think about that poor woman. He felt a dull, helpless anger rise up in him for a moment. Mrs. Billsbury his _foot_! But at least the creature cared enough to take care of his mistakes.

Mark sighed, muscles finally beginning to unclench, and noted the feeling of light headedness associated with the tail end of a massive adrenaline rush. If he could survive the next few weeks, he could go back to living in _reality_, instead of the freaking Twilight Zone. His eyes focused back in on the wad of cash. And maybe…maybe life would even be a little better than before.

* * *

Author's Note: Heeheehee, the doctor thinks that Vlad-man's the dad! (Bwahaha.) Sorry, total side note. :)

Thanks for reading! And a special thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! I really loved reading what you thought, truly. :)

Clearly this isn't as lengthy as the previous chapter, and is probably closer to the average length of a chapter for me. Anyway, please review! (Pretty please with sugar on top!) It's so much fun hearing what the people who actually read this think, and if something bugs you or whatever, let me know and I'll try to make it better. :)


	7. Nathaniel

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter 7: Nathaniel**

* * *

August 21, 8 months after

Amity Park

It was a Monday, and school was back in full swing. Last week had been the warm up: get your syllabus signed, get your notebooks, binders, rulers, etc. Try to remember some of what you learned last year. It was the beginning of Danny Fenton's senior year.

His mind couldn't be further away from school, however. To the casual observer, it might've looked like he was studying diligently over lunch, but in fact, he was updating his ghost list. Or he would've been if other things weren't on his mind. Danny looked down at the list as it stood so far, not really seeing it.

The Box Ghost had been clueless (as usual), Technus appeared uninvolved, Ember was guilt free (but definitely not fat free), Desiree, Skulker, Kitty and Johnny 13, and Walker, newly added, were all placed under "most likely uninvolved." There were also the "yet to question", "most likely involved", and "guilty" sections. So far no one was under "most likely involved" or "guilty."

Walker was the problem. Well, not really; he wasn't involved in Sam's disappearance. But then, he might not be doing much of _anything_ for a long time, not after last night. Danny put down his pencil, and stared off into space.

Walker had brought it on himself. The guy just couldn't keep his mouth shut! He'd been condescending, and crude. He'd said some things about him and Sam that just…made his blood boil. And he'd refused to answer any of Danny's questions. Was he involved or wasn't he? Had he heard anything about Sam or hadn't he?

Something had snapped. Walker, the ghost who had wanted to lock Danny away, the ghost who had tried to turn the community and his own _family __against_ him, the ghost who used the "law" as a tool to exercise his obsessive need to control everything…Walker, the ghost who had obviously still been thinking of Danny as a scrawny fourteen year old kid, had gotten the living _crud_ beaten out of him last night.

It was a good thing he was a ghost, Danny thought, because otherwise he might've died. Danny's brow furrowed, and he couldn't stop the growing feeling of guilt rising up through his stomach. He picked the pencil up again, and started nervously twiddling it around.

It wasn't like the bastard didn't have it coming to him. It…wasn't like he didn't have it _coming_ to him! Somehow repeating this thought didn't help much.

He'd never heard someone beg him to stop hurting them before. It was a good thing Walker was a coward at heart, though, because if he _hadn't_ started begging…

Danny looked down. He'd broken the pencil by accident. He put both pieces in his book bag, along with the notebook, and stood up to head outside for a while. He needed some fresh air to clear his head.

That pencil wasn't the only thing he'd broken recently. Walker's nose came to mind, for one. But the whole confrontation had been so _pointless_; why couldn't the idiot have just told him the truth to _start_ with? Couldn't he see how upset and angry he was? Then, of course, there had been a legitimate doubt; the possibility that Walker was doing more than just messing with Danny's emotions. Maybe he _was_ involved. And that possibility had driven Danny over the edge. For a few minutes, Walker had become guilty _no matter what_. He _had_ been the ghost who'd driven Sam away, and he'd _pay_.

But the real problem was…the truly frightening thing was that Danny couldn't even…he couldn't remember everything he'd done, or how long he'd beaten Walker. It had taken his begging, pathetic sounding and broken, to snap him out of it.

Danny had been making his way over to Walker, who had somehow gotten all the way across the room, when he'd heard the word "please." It had been like cold water in the face, and had caused Danny to take a second look. It was like coming down from some hyper state of existence; the world had suddenly come back into focus. Then he'd remembered what he'd been doing, at least in the extremely short term. That was right; Walker was across the room because Danny had just _thrown_ him there.

But he wasn't getting back up from where he'd thrown him. Maybe he couldn't get up? Danny had paused where he was, waiting to see. Walker _had_ moved, but only his arms and his head, and only a little. And he'd moaned out "please" once again, pleadingly, and had gone on, in a weak voice, to claim innocence. Walker had just been pulling his leg after all, which was something he'd never, _never_ do again. He'd said he'd do _anything_ after that; he'd help with the search, just please have mercy…

Danny had left quickly, feeling slightly sickened. He didn't want to hear Walker beg for mercy, he just wanted Sam back. How had he gotten into a revenge streak against someone who wasn't even _involved_?

And now, this morning, he couldn't help wondering. Had he paralyzed Walker? He hadn't looked right, after being thrown. And his legs had been completely still. He'd only moved his upper body. If Danny remembered right, the momentum from his throw had carried him right into a table, which had been wielded to the floor. And he'd hit it right on the small of the back.

Danny had no particular fondness for the jailer, but he wouldn't wish a broken back on anybody. And Danny never thought _he_ would be responsible for doing something like that.

Yet that wasn't completely true. Hadn't…hadn't Johnny 13 from the future been a paraplegic? Danny remembered that he'd never gotten out of that wheelchair, in any case. And his future self had been responsible for that.

Something about this train of thoughts troubled Danny deeply, and for a moment, somewhere deep in the Ghost Zone, a lone wanderer found himself suddenly recalling the time he had lost his temper with Johnny 13 all those years ago. Two people simultaneously hung their heads in shame.

Danny found himself promising to never lose control like that again, and he prayed, secretly, that Walker would recover completely. He didn't want to be responsible for something like that. He didn't want to have to look at his friends, and explain to them what he'd done.

The bell rang for classes, and Danny turned slowly to head back in. As he picked up his pace, he tried to put last night out of his mind. He didn't have the time or energy to spend worrying about Walker anymore. He was supposed to be planning out who to visit next.

* * *

Somewhere in the silent, still recesses of the Ghost Zone, an older, more experienced version of Danny found himself thinking on the violence that had given meaning to his life for the past decade. He'd suddenly started thinking about Johnny 13, and from there other incidents had come to mind, one after another, in a stream of memories going on for far too long.

He'd done so much damage; had caused so much pain. For months he'd been thinking about these things, however. These memories were what kept him company. But what had he learned from them? What steps was he going to take in the future, this time around?

As these questions formed themselves, a sense of determination began to set in. He'd felt guilty for long enough, though he'd probably never stop feeling it to some extent. But _wallowing_ in it wasn't helping anything. It wasn't helping Sam or any of the people he'd hurt, or even himself anymore. What to do, how to make a start at changing things, though?

One thing, he knew, had to be defined for him, _by_ him. He would never fight anyone again. He simply couldn't _allow_ himself to ever go that route again. He'd spent so long attacking people and destroying things, he'd almost forgotten what it was like before that, when he'd played the part of a super hero. Unfortunately, he didn't think he could return to that; the two were too similar in nature.

Where did one draw the line between beating someone because they're the bad guy, and beating someone (even if they are the bad guy) because you want to? He didn't think, if put in that position, that he'd be able to control himself. There was too much habit, too much _physical memory_ associated with the wrong kind of fighting. For him, fighting wasn't an option.

Danny found himself making a promise. If he was forced to defend himself, it would be through blocking the attacks of others or running away, never through attacking in return. He would _never_ throw a punch again, if he could help it. And if he should end up taking a few punches because of this, goodness knows he would deserve it.

* * *

September 19, 9 months and 2 days after

"Breath in…let it out…breath in…let it out…you're doing great, Anna." Nurse Kelly hovered nearby, occasionally coming to hold Sam's hand. In the last hour she had started using Sam's "first name." She was three hours into labor, and apparently the baby would be coming any minute, judging from the time between contractions.

_Ugh…_ She wanted this to be over, and she found herself cursing the ceiling out of sheer desperation. Who made it so incredibly ugly, dull, putrid, nauseating, and repulsively boring anyway? She needed fresh air, a window, nature, escape! Somewhere in her fevered mind Sam decided it should be hospital policy everywhere to perform all births in a beautiful outdoor environment. She let out a slight moan, and looked off to the side, to a corner of the room where an empty chair sat staring at her. She blinked and looked away again. Where had that muddled thought come from?

Vlad blinked back, even though she couldn't see. He could've sworn the girl had looked right at him just then, but he knew that wasn't possible. She had no clue he was there. Frankly, he didn't want to be there anymore than she would want him to be, if she did know. Vlad's palms were slick with perspiration, and his cheeks were flushed. He could only hope fervently that his help wouldn't be needed. He was not _built_ for this!

"_It's coming!_" The shrill yell from Samantha brought Vlad's head up. _Oh no…_

He floated up and over, positioning himself a few feet away. He knew he'd have to be very close if he wanted to be of any true help, should a 'ghostly incident' occur.

* * *

Half an hour later Vlad Plasmius, grey in the face, slowly floated out of the hospital through the roof. _I've been scarred for life._ The images, sounds, and smells from the birth were continuing to assault him.

Everything had gone fine, ironically. The baby had decided to stay human throughout. Vlad would've given up his mansion if only to know that piece of information ahead of time.

_I can never un-see this! _

* * *

Meanwhile, Sam Manson was resting, her newborn baby in her arms. She'd never felt more peaceful in her life. Tired, yes, but peaceful. In a few minutes, she knew, they'd place him in a crib so she could sleep, but right then he was busily seeking nourishment. She felt warm, and very, very happy. She gazed down at him lovingly. He was beautiful, with just a tuft of black hair on the top of his head, and big baby blue eyes.

_My son,_ _Nathaniel Zakai Manson._

* * *

**Author's note:** I went with Jewish names, since Sam is supposed to be Jewish. Nathaniel means "gift of God", and Zakai means "one who is innocent, pure."

Interestingly, Lilith (also a Jewish name- a hint for the fans, I guess) is the name Sam chose for her "baby" in the episode "Life Lessons", which means "dark." (Her attitude about baby names has obviously changed somewhat since then.) Also, Samantha means "listener of God", interestingly enough. Heh, sorry, I find this interesting, you might not. :) A thousand apologies for the shortness of this chapter! I've already written the next one, and will probably post it tomorrow night.

But please review, however; I really want your opinions on this chapter, especially what you think of this name (and the fact that he's a boy). Or, if you're absolutely horrified at something let me know...or if you're Jewish and can give me hints at something I've done horribly wrong, please tell me. (I'm giving you gigantically huge puppy dog eyes here. Really!) Thanks for reading!


	8. Uncle Vlad

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter 8: Uncle Vlad**

September 20, 9 months, 3 days after

Danny felt like an idiot. As usual, he hadn't used all the resources available to him when he could've, and had ended up wasting valuable time as a result. Specifically, he'd cut off Sam's parents. Not intentionally, of course, but out of a subconscious desire, he knew, to avoid people who were suffering from her loss as much as he was. It was too painful to be around them.

But that didn't mean he could afford to drop communication completely, as he had done for months. For some reason he'd assumed they would either find her, or not find her, and they'd _definitely_ call if they found her. Of course, things were never that black and white, which had only occurred to him a day ago, shortly before he'd gone to visit them at their house to ask questions in hopes of stumbling across something useful. Maybe the police had a lead they weren't able to follow up properly? Had they been able to track anything at all, even if the trail was cold?

Lo and behold, they had! Danny had felt like slamming his face into the table a few times at the news. (He was seated with Sam's parents around their kitchen table.) As it turned out, the FBI had visited one Vlad Masters, a billionaire, in his Wisconsin mansion back in April, since Sam had apparently flown there and subsequently taken a cab out to his mansion. This had been a lucky break for the investigators, since anyone visiting the Masters mansion was so unusual that the cabby, who specialized in picking people up from the airport, remembered the trip even weeks afterward.

She'd visited _Vlad_! At this point in the conversation Danny had been forced to excuse himself to go to the bathroom, running all the way. Sam's parents, he was sure, were under the impression that he'd had sudden trouble, erm, with the lower down digestion, of the nature one likes to keep vague. He'd had to stay in the bathroom for over ten minutes in order to calm back down. The implications of Sam visiting Vlad were so horrible, that for one adrenaline crazed moment he'd contemplated simply flying up through the roof right then and there straight to Vlad's, never mind what Sam's parents thought about his disappearing act.

He'd forced himself to get control over his raging emotions, however. It had been months, after all. Maybe if he'd found out a few days after she'd left, rushing off would've been a good idea. But now? _Now_ he needed to plan, to think things through, which had been something he'd neglected to do, it seemed, from the start of this mess!

Upon returning to the conversation, he'd found things only got worse, though thankfully he was already past the biggest shock. Apparently Sam had tried to buy ghost hunting equipment off of Vlad, according to the billionaire himself, but he'd turned her down since he didn't manufacture that sort of technology. (Danny's urge to slam his head into the table had returned at this point.)

What really burned Danny up was that after the FBI had questioned Vlad, they'd gone back to Amity Park to question his own parents. "Why would Sam want ghost hunting equipment, and why wouldn't she ask for it from them, since they were right there in Amity Park?" These were the sort of questions, after filling in both sets of parents about Sam's meeting with Vlad, that the detective had asked, according to Sam's parents.

So his parents had known! And hadn't _told_ him! He had seethed for hours after that revealing conversation, and had gone over the time in which the detective had been around in his memories as meticulously as he could. The funny thing was he did remember a detective visiting once or twice very early on to ask questions about Sam, such as "what sort of person was she, was she having any trouble Danny knew about?" But he must've come back a few weeks later and talked to his and Sam's parents while he was in school.

For some reason they'd chosen not to tell him, but that hadn't stopped his parents from asking him questions. Heck, he had to admit, they might've just forgotten to tell him, though he doubted it. He'd just been so depressed and out of it at the time, their questions hadn't seemed significant! "Why do you suppose Sam took her Fenton Thermos with her, Danny?" "Do you think there are other places that have as many ghosts as Amity Park, Danny, hypothetically speaking?" The former had been his mother, the latter his father.

In his defense, they'd asked him lots of questions over a period of weeks, and his parents were weird people; they'd thrown him some really weird questions. In the mix of it all, he hadn't put any particular significance on the ones that pointed to her trip to Wisconsin.

Still, the fact that he could've simply asked his _own_ questions at any time, and thus found out about this months ago had sent him almost literally through the roof. His sudden trip to the bathroom had truly been the only way to cover his emotions at the time.

Danny sighed, and turned to look out the window of the Fenton RV. Things were at least somewhat on track now. Today was a Friday, and the beginning of a three day weekend. And the Fentons, plus Tucker, were taking a road trip to Wisconsin to visit none other than dear old _Uncle Vlad_.

Danny had suggested it the previous evening, of course. And since his parents were eager to cheer him up in any way they could, they'd agreed quickly. His dad, of course, had been extremely enthusiastic, and was still as oblivious as he had been from the start about Vlad's animosity toward him.

It was going to be a surprise visit, or a near thing, at least, since Vlad had only been given half a day's notice (they'd only been able to get a hold of him mid morning, when they'd already been on the road for hours). And with Jack on the line, anything Vlad said in response to the idea of a visit had been translated into unbridled enthusiasm, even if it had been a "no, Jack, I'm busy." That might've been his answer, too, for all Danny knew.

Vlad was one of the few people Danny had left on his list to question, ironically. He'd been spacing out the tougher ghosts over time, wanting to avoid putting potentially dangerous fights too close together. And Vlad lived in Wisconsin, whereas the portal to the ghost zone was in Danny's basement. Again, if he'd thought things through more thoroughly, he would've remembered that Vlad had a portal to the ghost zone as well, though Danny wasn't sure where it was.

This trip was a blessing in many ways, at least. He wouldn't be tired out from flying to Wisconsin, or have to worry about the RV being missed (should he have chanced taking it on his own) by his parents. Vlad would be distracted by his family and Tucker, so Danny would have a chance to snoop around.

* * *

Vlad groaned, leaning back on the recliner until he was nearly horizontal, and put the phone back on its receiver on the nearby table. He was in his smallest, coziest study, the one where he'd talked with Samantha Manson months ago. There was a fireplace across the room, currently unlit. He stared into it, his mind less than sharp at the moment, and scowled after a moment when he realized he'd been zoning out.

_Jack, I'm really going to have to kill you one of these days…_ His bumbling idiot of a 'friend' didn't understand subtlety, so Vlad didn't know why he had attempted to use it on him.

The Fentons were visiting in a few short hours, and he'd only gotten what felt like a few minutes of sleep last night. He was dead on his feet, not to mentioned traumatized, damn it, he did _not_ want to deal with them right now!

The horrific images from Samantha's birth were still fresh in his mind. Only last night he'd been waiting for hours, sweating, shaking, and finally forced to concentrate hard on the one place he didn't want to be looking. _Ugh…_ Vlad groaned, and then turned onto his side. After that he'd caught an early morning flight out back home, and had arrived (_oh joy!)_ just in time to receive Jack's happy news. The conversation was still fresh in his mind.

"Hello?" His voice had been slightly surly as he'd slumped into his favorite armchair; he'd hardly stepped inside the door when the phone had started ringing, after all.

"VLAD MY MAN!" Vlad had moved the receiver a foot away from his ear, his nerves twanging.

"Jack?"

"Vlady, how've you been? What's cooking in Wisconsin, besides cheese?"

"Nothing much, Jack." He'd paused. How did he word this? "My _dear_ friend, not that I mind your call, but what…"

"We're coming up for a visit, Vlady! Danny's got a three day weekend, so we thought we'd come say hello! You've gotta say yes; we're already halfway there!"

"Really?" No, no, he had to get out of this! How exactly did one get through such a thick skull, however? "Jack, I'm sorry, but this is…"

"Such a wonderful surprise?" Vlad paused, indeed caught by surprise. "You're speechless, Vlady! Don't worry, no need to say any more, I know you're overjoyed! We'll be there in about four hours!" Click.

A fuzzy anger pulsated through his veins momentarily, but Vlad was just too tired to be or even _feel_ violent, and besides, he'd just have replace whatever he broke later anyway. _That idiot…_

And now he sat, staring into his empty fireplace because his mind was determined to shut down for a few hours. Oh _yes_, he had sounded _soooo_ overjoyed. Overjoyed was practically his _middle name_. Vlad sighed. Clearly this was punishment for something he'd done. (In which case he couldn't _really_ complain, he supposed.) Besides, he reasoned, he'd get to see Maddie.

After a moment he went intangible and wobbled his way down to the lab; he needed to lock things down before they got there. Daniel had a tendency to snoop.

* * *

"Vlady!"

"Jack, my friend, it's been too long!" Vlad did his best to put up a cheerful front; the last thing he wanted to do was alienate Maddie because of lack of sleep.

The gang had arrived. Jack, Maddie, Daniel, and his friend Tucker were gathering outside his front door. Daniel, who was in the back, was already giving him the 'evil eye'. Vlad raised an eyebrow at him after ushering the others in.

The effect was spoiled a little when he realized the boy had finally outgrown him. He sped up to join Maddie at the front.

"How have things been down in Amity, Maddie? You're looking lovely as ever, by the way."

"Oh, well, it's been a little quiet lately, what with Jazz starting off to college last year. It's just Danny now, and Jack, of course."

Jack stepped in. "It hasn't been the same, without Jazz around the place, with her psychology mumbo jumbo! But that's life, kids've gotta grow up. Maddie's a little reluctant, though."

"Yes, well, life's all about change, isn't it, Jack?" _Such as a change in which you go away forever, and I get a chance with Maddie._

Jack might've caught a glint in his eye, because he turned the conversation toward him. "Speaking of kids, Vlad-man…when're you going to settle down? I always thought I'd get to be best man at your wedding, and here you are in your forties, still single!" He put an arm around Vlad's shoulder conspirationally. "There's _still_ time, though, Vlady. You're rich, smart, you've got great friends, (here he swelled a little) so I'm sure there's someone out there just _waiting_ for you to walk into her life." Jack waggled his eyebrows at him, and for a moment looked like a used car salesman trying to push a deal.

Vlad, already feeling sore at the world, had to concentrate on keeping the steam from leaking out his ears. But once again his fatigue caused any true anger from petering out before it formed. Still, the petulant scowl was there to stay.

"Maybe someday, Jack. Who knows?" Ah. But there was always energy for the evil grin.

* * *

Vlad sipped his tea quietly, and took the time to zone out. Everyone else was helping themselves to beef sandwiches and raspberry tarts, which unbeknownst to them had been prepared by one of the best French chefs in the world…from the 19th century, anyway.

Daniel had already snuck off, pleading a full bladder. He had yet to return, and Vlad was lazily contemplating checking up on the boy. He was somewhat reluctant to be alone with him at the moment, however. He seemed a tad…on edge, and Vlad wasn't up to a fight at the moment. And the boy had considerably bulked up.

It wasn't like Daniel could do any real mischief, of course, unless he simply decided to trash the place. Besides, the techno wiz wasn't with him, opting for food instead. Not that his PDA had a chance against Vlad's security system.

He leaned back, deciding he didn't need to worry about it. "So Jack, Maddie, how are the inventions coming along? Anything new?"

* * *

_Maddie Masters…_it actually had a ring to it…ew_…Madeline Masters…Jack Dead…Dead Jack….Evil….Plasmius…..Vlad Plasmius….sucks…_

"This is stupid." Okay, so that last one was just out of spite. Danny sat in front of Vlad's computer, down in the secret lab, trying different passwords. Unfortunately, Danny had a sneaking suspicion that even if he got it right, he still wouldn't get access to anything. There was what looked like some sort of hand print scanner off to the side. Well, he could always beat Vlad senseless, and then place his hand on it _for_ him…..

Danny paused, frustrated. Some part of him knew that was hardly fair to Vlad, but if Sam had been here, he needed answers, damn it! And it wasn't like the jerk to simply give out information.

He frowned, and stood up from the computer to walk around the place, running his hands through his hair in the process. It had already been ten minutes, at least, and Vlad was bound to get suspicious soon. It looked like this would have to wait until tonight, when he could hopefully get Tucker down here with his PDA. Vlad couldn't personally guard the place all night long, right?

* * *

"Jack, Danny hasn't eaten anything yet. Jack, put that back!" Maddie thwapped Jack lightly on his hand to make him relinquish the last raspberry tart. Vlad closed his eyes to avoid rolling them and took another sip of tea. What _did_ she see in him? He would never be able to fathom it.

"Where is he, anyway?" Maddie looked around, just in time to see Danny come back into the room.

Jack's voice boomed out. "Speak of the devil! Danny, get over here and eat something before I do. Unless you're not hungry?" There was a slight gleam of hope in Jack's eyes. Those tarts were excellent.

Daniel, looking a little frustrated, sat down and nabbed the last tart for himself, along with a beef sandwich. "Thanks for leaving me some, guys." The sarcasm was almost tangible.

Vlad gazed over at Daniel as he sat down to eat, trying to conceal his surprise. It occurred to him that he hadn't heard the boy speak yet. And that voice…something about that voice was very familiar.

"Your voice has dropped, I see, Daniel." He looked up, mouth full of beef sandwich.

"Yeah. S'fummy how dat happ'ms." A tiny piece of half chewed sandwich fell back to the plate. _How quaint._ Vlad shrugged mentally and looked away. This conversation could wait until later, obviously.

* * *

"Danny, calm down!" This isn't helping me think. Or my headache." Tucker was sitting on the floor, cradling his recently barbecued PDA.

It was a little past midnight, and he and Danny were down in Vlad's lab discovering the benefits of being able to afford the best of everything. Like security systems.

Tucker's PDA, and also Tucker to some extent, had just been fried (literally) while trying to hardwire into the system. Danny, meanwhile, looked about ready to hit something, and wouldn't stop pacing the room. Tucker sighed.

Danny had flown them both down here about half an hour ago. He'd been so eager a few minutes ago, but now that Tucker's only real chance of cracking the system had failed, Danny was losing his cool fast. His nervous energy had been annoying to start with, but now Tucker could practically feel the frustration pulsing off him in waves. This had been their big chance to get a lead on Sam, and it appeared to be another dead end.

"Danny. Stop the pacing. Danny!" Danny stood still for a moment, but couldn't hold it and started madly pacing again as soon as Tucker looked away. Tucker decided to put aside his busted PDA; that was clearly a lost cause. They needed to figure out what to do next.

"I don't think I can get into this system. Actually, I'm positive I can't. I mean, it requires a hand print and a retinal scan, along with a password, Danny. This is top of the line stuff." That stopped Danny cold.

He stood with his back turned, extremely tense, and Tucker wondered what was going through his head. "Tucker…" He sighed, and clenched his fists in frustration. "Tucker, you've only been at it a few minutes. Don't you think you should try a _little_ harder before throwing in the towel?"

Tucker frowned. He knew how frustrated Danny was, but he couldn't work miracles! This system was foolproof. Danny was just too stubborn to see that. "Retinal scan, hand print? I can't fake those."

Danny turned around, glaring daggers. "I told you about that earlier. At least the hand print. You _said_ you could get around all of that." He crossed his arms. "What changed?"

At least he was asking a reasonable question. "What changed is that Vlad's system fried my PDA, Danny. The only way I could've gotten in was if I could _physically_ connect into his system, and flip the switches in the main security program that would convince the computer I gave the password, hand print and whatever else it needed. I can't do that, though, if I can't make the connection. All I can do at this point is fry another PDA."

Danny's eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're just worried about losing another PDA? How do you know for sure that the second time wouldn't work?"

That was it. That was just plain ridiculous. "Danny, do you really think I'm _that_ selfish?" He put down the PDA and leaned back on his hands. Now _he_ needed to calm down. Both of them angry would get them nowhere really fast. He took a calming breath, and kept his voice even and low. "Look, if I tell you I can't crack the system, I mean it. _I'm_ the techno wiz; _you're_ the guy with ghost powers. You might try trusting my judgment on this."

Danny didn't look any calmer, however, and he didn't seem repentant about what he'd said, either. Instead he marched over, still glaring daggers, and towered over Tucker, who suddenly felt slightly nervous. Something about this was familiar in a really wrong way…

After a moment, much to Tucker's surprise, Danny leaned over and pulled Tucker up by the lapels. Then he started yelling.

"Is this a _game_ to you, Tucker! What is _wrong_ with you? Don't you understand how important this is?" For a moment Tucker was disoriented, and more than a little shocked. What was he _doing_? Danny's voice became mocking and puerile, and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "_You're the techno wiz, I'm the ghost boy!_ How stupid is that? You're not a techno wiz, Tucker, what you are is completely useless!"

Tucker felt like he'd been slapped. His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. _Enough_ was _enough_! "What's wrong with _me_? What's wrong with _you_, Danny! Put me down! If you hadn't noticed, I'm half a foot off the ground! And why are you in ghost form still _anyway_? It's not like there's anyone here to fight, unless you're planning to beat _me_ up?"

After a moment Danny lowered him back down and let go, some of his anger finally fading to be replaced by an embarrassed petulance. "You _said_ you could get in, Tucker." The way he said it made it sound like an apology. He looked off to the side, suddenly miserable. Actually, Tucker thought, he looked a lot like a kid whose ice cream had been stolen, which was a complete reversal from a moment before. A moment before, if the eyes were red instead of green, and the hair was flaming…

Tucker suddenly felt uncomfortable. Danny was getting more and more unpredictable, and although Tucker really felt entitled to a proper apology, he didn't quite have the nerve to deal with whatever whacked out reaction Danny would have next. He crossed his arms, and let out a long breath of air. They were both just really, _really_ stressed about Sam. That's all it was.

He answered Danny, speaking slowly, and tried to keep the edge out his voice. It was hard, because he was feeling more than a little used and abused at the moment. "No I _didn't_. I said I could _try_." He couldn't stop himself from going on, though. "_You_ might try being a little more thankful, you know. Visiting Vlad isn't exactly my idea of fun, _or_ finding out what he's got on his creepy computer!"

Danny stepped back, still avoiding his eyes. After a moment he turned around, walked across the room, and started absentmindedly looking over the gadgets Vlad had placed along the wall. Tucker could tell he was still angry, though probably at the situation and not him personally. Driving all the way up here for nothing? That was a pretty depressing thought. After giving Danny a moment, Tucker came over to stand next to him.

"You know Danny, you could just try…_asking_ Vlad. I know it's a long shot, but you might get something out of him if you catch him off guard, or ask the right questions. And there's the off chance that…he might just tell you what he knows."

Danny kept his eyes on the wall as he spoke. "Unless he's the reason Sam's missing. And you know I can't tell when the bastard's _lying_ to me."

"I know…I know." Tucker suddenly felt very tired. He missed Sam too, and felt worried too. He didn't like to think of her in Vlad's clutches; the guy was a madman. But it was late, he'd spent all day on the road, and his brain just wasn't doing so well at the moment. If there was a solution, he wasn't seeing it.

"Well, Tucker, if we can't get into his system, I don't think Vlad should be able to _either_." Danny was looking downright malicious as he turned back toward the computer, and Tucker's eyes widened as he noticed that he was gathering energy into his right hand.

* * *

Vlad's eyes widened as well. The brat! He was going to trash his computer! He'd been watching the two boys interact for the last few minutes, having gotten out of bed when the alarm he'd rigged earlier when off. Fortunately he was doing a little better now, having gotten a few solid hours of sleep.

Daniel had developed quite the attitude over the last several months, it seemed. Vlad hadn't observed him much lately, having been absorbed with Samantha's unborn child, and the mystery surrounding the father. But now that Daniel was in front of him, here and now, he could see several changes in the boy. He was too angry all the time, and too violent. His emotions were impairing his judgment, and he seemed almost eager to do malicious damage to Vlad's very _important_, very _private_ laboratory. Well, he couldn't let the ingrate destroy his computer.

"Daniel, _stop_." He placed himself between Daniel and his computer, becoming visible in the process, and crossed his arms. He was in ghost form, which made two of them. Daniel stopped, eyes narrowing.

"_Vlad_. How long have you been here?" He didn't look as surprised as Vlad would've liked, or as intimidated. But when it came down to it, he really didn't want to fight the boy.

"Long enough to see you treat your friend rather badly. You could try following his advice, you know, and simply _ask_ me what you want to know."

"The problem with that would be, I can't _trust_ you, _Vlad_. You're a lying, manipulative, evil, sad, miserable _freak_. No offense." He smirked, and crossed his arms again. Vlad let the insult slide. Daniel was obviously _hoping_ for a fight.

"You're looking for Samantha, and you think I've done something with her. What, pray tell, would I have done with the girl, Daniel? She's of no use to me."

Daniel frowned deeply, and narrowed his eyes. His friend, Vlad noted, was doing a remarkable job of standing very still. "She's one of my _best friends_, Vlad, and you happen to be _obsessed_ with me and my mom. You could be planning to use her against me."

Vlad snorted softly. "Daniel, my boy, if I had any intention of," he lifted his hands and formed quotation marks in the air, "using her against you, why would I secret her away for so long? Any plan I had would've been done and over with long ago. No, I'm afraid that whatever is going on with your little friend has nothing to _do_ with me." He paused, but went on when Daniel looked more angry, not less. "I _can_ tell you that she did visit me some months ago, however."

Daniel paused, and then responded. "I already know that. And knowing you, you already knew that I know that, too. That's why we're _here_. Why should I believe for a _second_ that you have nothing to do with her disappearance, when the first place she goes is to you?"

Vlad crossed his arms, and adopted a contemplative look. "It's puzzling, I agree. I was very curious about it at the time, and tried to ask my own share of questions." He frowned, and let a little of the concern he'd felt for Samantha over the months show itself. There were times to suppress an emotion, and then there were times to share them. He knew his idea of when this was differed from the average person's, though perhaps not the average politician's.

"I…have a recording of the conversation, Daniel. I'm willing show it to you, if you'd like. I'm afraid that beyond that, however, I'm nearly as in the dark as you about her whereabouts." He raised his eyebrows, frowned in regret, and uncrossed his arms in order to shrug his shoulders in a clueless gesture. "I swear it."

Daniel's eyes had lit up a little at the mention of a recording, and after that he'd looked much more willing to believe what he was told. Vlad thought he could see a hint of trust beginning to show in Daniel's expression, and he smirked inwardly. The boy was right; he was a very good liar.

"Show me the recording."

"Of course. If you will follow me upstairs?" Daniel looked surprised.

"It isn't on this computer?"

"No. This computer is devoted to my research on ghosts. Anything to do with my secret identity goes down here. Everything else goes upstairs. The government watches its billionaires carefully, Daniel. Everything I can keep transparent, I do, and that includes the security cameras." _Most of them, anyway_.

They stepped out of the fireplace entrance, having walked up the stairs as they talked. Vlad made his way out of the room, after shifting out of ghost form, and led them to the security room. It was roughly in the center of the mansion, a small room where all the security cameras could be monitored if he so chose. It was locked, as always.

"You'll have to phase through." He did so, and Daniel, along with his friend, followed after a moment, looking cautiously around.

"You'll have to be patient. I need to go back several months, and I don't remember when she was here exactly, so I'll have to do some hunting around." He glanced over and gave Daniel a grumpy look. "But if this will keep you from destroying my things, so be it." He sat down at the one chair in the room (which was not much bigger than a very large walk-in closet) and faced the monitors.

* * *

"_Now. What brings you all the way out here? Shouldn't you be in school or something?"_

_"Never mind that. But today is a Saturday, so no, I'm not skipping school. Look, I know you're Vlad Plasmius…"_

_"I know you know." _

_ "Well, I know you knew that I know..."_

The conversation played on, and as Daniel and his friend watched it, Vlad watched Daniel. It was clearly both a joy and very painful for him to be seeing and hearing the girl after so long, and Vlad couldn't help notice the strangely rapt look in his eyes. _And he says _I'm_ obsessive_.

He leaned back against the wall, having given up the chair to Tucker, and found a question from earlier surfacing again. Daniel's voice. It sounded very familiar, and after thinking on it (and sleeping on it) for a little while, Vlad was reasonably sure he knew where he'd heard it before. He would do a test once they had left to see if he was right. If he was…well. Things, once again, would be simplified yet made more confusing at the same time.

"…it again." Vlad looked up, having tuned out temporarily.

"What?"

"I said play it again." Daniel was looking over at him, waiting for Vlad to work his magic.

"I can do it, Danny." Tucker began rewinding the recording. Seeing their friend, even on video, was obviously very nostalgic for both of the boys. Vlad chose to remain silent. After a few moments the tape started up again, and Vlad came over to watch through with them this time.

_"…if you insist. But money really isn't an issue. And, to be honest, you don't strike me as the type to give something away without expecting something in return." _

_Vlad laughed. "My dear Samantha…I'm sorry, you really must let me call you Samantha, it's a lovely name. I can't imagine why you choose to shorten it, just like Daniel…my dear Samantha, I see you've heard horrible things about me from Daniel. Whatever you've heard, let me assure you, I've never had anything but the best intentions at heart. Sometimes I just have a rather round about way of showing it." He paused. "In any case, I really would like to give this to you, and perhaps a few other tools if you would like, free of charge. As a gift. No strings attached."_

Vlad reached down to stop the tape. There was a silence that followed after, as they all thought their own thoughts.

"Show us what happens after this. Down in the lab." That was Tucker this time, whose attention was nearly as riveted at Daniel's. Vlad sighed to himself. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Would either of you care for some tea?" Vlad was making a beeline for the kitchen.

"No, but some food would be good." Tucker followed behind, perking up. Vlad yawned widely, tears forming briefly at the corners of his eyes. He was…so…tired.

Daniel smirked. "Sleepy, old man?" He smirked.

Vlad smirked back. "Well, it's a bit past my bedtime, _boy_, no thanks to you." They'd gone through the tape where Samantha had been given the Plasmius Maximus and another small device for catching ghosts, not unlike the Fenton thermos. _Then_ they'd gone back upstairs to watch her exit the building and drive away in the cab, of all things. Then they'd gone back downstairs _again_, after Daniel had insisted on re-watching the previous tape. After that, Vlad had told them they were taking a break because he said so, and so here they were going to get tea.

After a bit they came to the kitchen, and Vlad rang a bell for the chef, who was available 24/7. As they waited Tucker started prattling off a list of food items the length of his arm. Vlad rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore him. He smirked when the boy stopped suddenly as the chef came through the ceiling.

"Ah. Louis. If you could bring us some tea, and anything you could put together quickly for a snack, please. We'll be in the study." He turned around and headed towards the study and his favorite recliner. If they insisted on bothering him further, he could at least be bothered in comfort. They trailed along behind, still seemingly surprised at the ghostly nature of his chef, though he couldn't imagine why. Didn't they know _anything_ about him after all this time?

"So Vlad…."

"No more questions until I get my tea." Daniel shut his mouth, for once, and Vlad slumped into his recliner, pushing back until he was in a lying position. He threw an arm over his eyes to block out the light, and began to doze off. All things considered, things were going extremely well.

* * *

"As I said, I don't know where she went. However…"

"However what?" Daniel was hanging on his every word, and Vlad had to suppress the smirk. Tucker was looking decidedly sleepy, however.

"However, I believe she was heading west, at least initially. I have, or should say _had_, a tracking device installed in the Plasmius Maximus." He put down his cup, having finished his tea. He'd made them wait until he was done with his first cup and had gotten a refill before talking to them. "I like to have information, and I like to keep track of people, as you know, Daniel. But Miss Manson clearly knew this too, because she destroyed my tracking device less than a weak later. She had traveled less than one hundred miles west, perhaps slightly to the south, when it stopped functioning. Judging by her speed, I'd say she was traveling by either car or bus. And that, my boy, is absolutely _all_ I know."

And Daniel believed him. Vlad could see it in his eyes. He'd also completely forgotten about trashing his computer, which was excellent. Things were _definitely_ going well.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey-loooow. Hmm...well, here's the chapter I promised to post tonight, though technically I supposed it's early morning of the day after I'd said I'd post it...

Arrrgh. I need sleep. Anyway, please review! Yay! (Does the extra hyper dance of joy, then passes out.)

Actually...here's a quick question for everyone! I've got the next plot oriented chapter already outlined, ready to write. But, there's stuff I didn't put into this chapter- you know, the Fentons hanging out at Vlads, things that don't reeeaally have any meaning to the plot. I'm not even saying it'd be that great...but I could write a short chapter nine that tells you what happens over the weekend with these guys "hanging out" with Vlad...'n stuff like that. Um. :) Or not?

Er...also, thank you so muuuuch for all the reviews! I usually reply back to the longer ones, because it's vera much fun, and will do that with the ones from the last chapter, too. I'm just sleepy right now. :P


	9. Interlude

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Author's Note: I skipped the funny chapter. Not enough ideas. Sorry if anyone was expecting it! Also, sorry for the wait. This week was strangely busy with lots of...strange things, what can I say? **

**Chapter 9: Interlude**

September 23, 9 months, 6 days after

Danny was once again staring out the window of the Fenton RV. It was Sunday afternoon, and they'd taken off from Vlad's about an hour ago. Everyone had fallen into a sleepy silence, which suited him just fine. He'd rather be alone with his thoughts.

Watching that video had been a strange experience. Danny hadn't seen Sam in months, so hearing her voice, seeing her face…it had been _really_ good. He'd wanted, for a few minutes, to just play the video over and over for the sound of her voice, the quirk of an eyebrow, and all the other little gestures that belonged to Sam. That hadn't lasted long, though. Watching that video wouldn't get her back.

At least he could be somewhat certain Vlad wasn't involved. It was incredible, actually, but judging from the video, it was pretty clear that Sam went to him for ghost hunting equipment, nothing more. It was also obvious that she had been running away, and didn't want Vlad to know. Even though her excuse for coming to him for equipment was incredibly flimsy, it did the job of getting him off her back right then, which was all she really needed. Of course, he'd been tracking her…

Danny's eyes widened. Wait! If Vlad was tracking her, he would've known she hadn't gone back to Amity Park almost immediately, the bastard! Why hadn't he called her parents, or his parents or something?

Danny paused, and scowled to himself. Of _course_ he wouldn't; what was he thinking? This was _Vlad_, after all. Unless there was something to be gained, he wouldn't have bothered. And actually, that's probably why he'd attempted to track her in the first place. If Vlad had known where Sam was when no one _else_ did, that would've put him in a position of power. He could've used that information to force Danny into some sort of deal, or trade, and surely would've months ago. _That_, he supposed, was the _real_ proof that Vlad didn't know where she was.

That didn't mean she wasn't in trouble, however. The fact that she was arming herself with ghost hunting equipment only confirmed Danny's theory that she was running from a ghost for some reason. Which one, though? He was running out of people to question fast.

In fact, Vlad had been the last ghost on his list with any substantial power. The rest were all small fries, like Aragon and the Ghost Writer. If they were causing trouble, Sam would've come to him, and he would've beaten their tales; end of story.

No, this ghost had to be strong, presumably stronger than _him_. That, or they had to have some sort of power over Sam. Like blackmail. But he couldn't see that happening! What did someone have to blackmail her with, except…

Danny's brows drew together in frustration. Except for his _identity_, of course, and he _hated_ that idea with a passion. He took a deep breath, making himself relax, and went back to looking out the window, his mind wandering.

He'd been building up tension for weeks and weeks, ever since he'd realized that Sam wasn't coming back, and that if he wanted to see her again he'd have to find her himself. That knowledge coupled with the fact that she didn't want to leave, that she had to have been _forced_ in some way, had slowly made him more upset over time.

And he had already _been_ upset, ever since she'd left. The shock and worry he'd already been feeling were _not_ helping him to be a chipper person, so this added stress was only serving to put him in a perpetually bad mood.

He'd been almost calm for the last few days, though; almost excited in a _good_ way. That video had really helped him for a little while to feel hope, and to relax. She was still out there, hopefully still healthy and reasonably happy, and hopefully _still Sam_. She was still the girl he knew and…the girl he knew and…liked a lot.

_Oh boy…_ Danny looked down at his hands. When, or if…no. Definitely _when_ he finally had the opportunity to tell her his feelings…it was definitely going to be interesting. He still had trouble even thinking about how he felt about her, let alone vocalizing it!

Not that he had to worry about that right now anyway. All he really knew at this point was that she'd headed west, south west, from Wisconsin.

But that was _all_ he knew. Now that this fact was sinking in, and the initial joy of just seeing her face had worn off, he was realizing he had no _clue_ as to how to find her. She could've changed direction drastically after breaking Vlad's tracking device, after all. In fact, she almost certainly _did_, since she'd have known she was being tracked.

Still, his determination to find her had been rekindled, and he almost had to thank Vlad for that, the cheese head. And the niggling doubt that she might have been kidnapped, or overshadowed, or even killed had been put to rest. She'd left, something _was_ wrong, but at least she wasn't physically hurt.

That could've changed between then and now, however. She had been arming herself for ghost fighting, after all.

Danny drew one of his knees up, hugging it to his chest with one arm, and rested his head on his other hand. He turned his glum gaze inside the RV, absentmindedly checking up on the others. He knew it was bad to worry or speculate overly on all the horrible things that could've happened to Sam over the long months. He'd done just that before, and it always led somewhere bad; to him doing something violent, or to long stretches of semi depression. He knew not to let himself go there anymore.

Danny found his gaze resting on Tucker, who had fallen asleep with a comic book in his lap. He was snoring lightly, his head having fallen back between the window and the edge of his seat. He was sitting opposite Danny, occupying the other window seat.

A pang of regret welled up in him, and he looked away. He really owed Tucker big time for blowing up at him like he did. His behavior had crossed a line, and he wished it could be taken back. Clearly he wasn't very good at dealing with his emotions as he should be. Amazingly, it seemed like Tucker had almost completely forgiven him, and for that Danny was grateful.

Tucker wouldn't be if he'd _known_. If he'd _known_ what was going through Danny's head down in that lab, he probably wouldn't be talking to him right now. After calming down, even Danny had been appalled at his own thoughts, frankly. And he'd been _dangerously_ close to chucking Tucker across the room, just because he couldn't work a miracle for him!

Danny knew in part why things had gotten out of control, though Tucker was probably clueless. He hadn't been thinking of Tucker as a friend. Danny had guessed that Tucker's computer knowledge and PDA would be needed to hack into Vlad's computer. He hadn't been asking Tucker along for his company so much as for his brains.

In short, he'd been so single mindedly focused on his goal of obtaining information on Sam that he'd neglected his other friendship completely, and had sunk to using Tucker like some sort of glorified tool. When that tool ceased being useful to him, he'd been tempted to take his anger out on it by literally throwing it away, or even breaking it. Though he didn't think he would ever have gone that far. He cringed at his own thoughts. _Right?_

But it had been worse than that, in a way. He'd still known Tucker was a human being, of course, but he'd only acknowledged that in a completely _twisted_ way. He'd taken Tucker's personality and drained all the good qualities and morality out of it for those few tense, angry minutes, and had been left with some self centered, horribly warped version of his friend. The tool was human in that it was selfish, vain, and all the little things that weren't really a major part of Tucker's personality but when magnified and separated from all that was good about him resulted in an ugly parody of his friend. _That_ had been what Danny was seeing in the other boy for those intense moments down in the lab.

Things had come back into focus when he'd calmed down, however. Now, looking back, he found himself comparing the incident to the fight with Walker. After snapping out of his attack on the ghost, it had been like coming out of a trance. Everything he'd been doing and thinking a moment ago almost seemed alien to him, in retrospect, and he'd immediately realized that all (well, most) of the condemnation he'd been throwing on Walker was misplaced.

The similar loss of control over his thoughts and actions in both situations was what brought the confrontation with Walker to mind, however. Danny had promised himself that something like that wouldn't happen again, and it hadn't in that he hadn't beaten anyone else black and blue.

But…part of that was stopping himself from getting that angry, that _irrational_, in the first place, which was what had _led_ to the beating. By promising to avoid that situation in the future, he realized, he'd actually been promising to reign in that part of himself that seemed to have been growing in him ever since Sam's disappearance.

The part that held irrational anger. The part that held an emotional, almost instinctual urge towards lashing out violently. It was…a loss of control over his own _self_. He didn't like these changes, and now that he was noticing them, he was more than a little unsettled by them. Any state in which he didn't really have control over himself was frightening to him. Yet how did he stop himself from going further down that path, or turning back? He almost wished he could ask someone, like Jazz, for advice.

Danny let out a silent sigh. He _would_ find Sam, and things _would_ go back to the way they'd been. Then all this madness would stop. _And…_he glanced back over at Tucker. He'd buy Tucker a new PDA when they got back. He deserved it.

* * *

A few hours later, back in Wisconsin

Vlad sat staring into space, absorbed in his own thoughts. He'd spent the last few hours in front of his computer down in the lab, testing a theory.

Something had been preying on his mind the last few days, but he'd suppressed his curiosity until after Daniel and company had left. If the boy had been snooping at the time, things would've gone to hell in a hand basket in short order.

Vlad hadn't wasted time after he was certain that they were gone, however. First he had located the recording he'd made of Daniel down in the lab two nights ago. Then he'd extracted a clip of his voice into a voice recognition program. Then he'd done the same with "Double D's" voice, using the clip of his brief confrontation with Daniel in Jack's laboratory.

Vlad was still digesting the results. Daniel's voice was an exact match to "Double D's", the ghost who had attacked Samantha Manson. It wasn't just a close match; it was the _same_ _voice_. On some deep level, Vlad couldn't help feeling very disturbed. The girl _loved_ him, after all. She loved Daniel, even now, when she hadn't seen him for months. It was clear as day. Yet, if she ever met him again…how would she react? He'd changed; he'd grown into this carbon copy of himself. Had she _known_ he would? _Daniel_ had recognized Double D, after all. Did Samantha know him as well?

Perhaps she had left because of this? She'd known Daniel would grow into this ghost, and couldn't stand to watch that happen? But she still loved him, Vlad was certain. If this was the case, and she knew he would turn into her attacker, at least physically, hadn't she already been successful in separating the two in her mind?

She'd brought ghost hunting equipment with her, presumably for protection against this man. Yet if she'd stayed in Amity, she would've been surrounded by ghost hunters, so clearly she hadn't left out of self preservation.

This had to be about Daniel. She was protecting him. Vlad couldn't miss the logic of it. If Daniel found out that she'd been attacked by his doppelganger, it would be worse, _much_ worse, than if she'd been attacked by someone else. Even if she could look beyond that, Vlad wasn't sure _he_ would be able to.

Foolish boy. There was nothing to forgive; he wasn't the culprit. And yet Vlad had the feeling he would, indeed, blame himself. And if _he_ knew Daniel would react this way, Samantha Manson, who had grown up with the boy, would know it too.

Oh well. None of this was really his concern. He still needed to figure out _why_ Daniel had a doppelganger running around, who appeared to be at least a few years older than himself. It would be good to know what sort of threat Double D might pose in the future, where he was right now, what his goals were; things like that. But beyond that, and specifically how this might effect Samantha and her son, Vlad didn't really care. The issues Daniel might or might not have should he ever find out what had happened between his doppelganger and Samantha were pointless to speculate on. Besides, if things went his way, the boy would never find out.

Vlad crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. Issues _Samantha_ might be having in the near future, however, deserved his full attention. The poor girl was in over her head. She had a half ghost child but was herself only human. She needed help. Yet he didn't want to expose himself to her. It was a catch-22.

He'd thought about using Dr. Evans again. The doctor already possessed an item for holding the child, in fact. Before the birth, Vlad had had another 'little chat' with him, and had given him what was probably the only halfa baby proof crib in existence.

How to get it home with Samantha, however? If she found out the doctor had it, questions were bound to be asked, so getting Dr. Evans to give it to her really wasn't a solution. Suspicions about everything in her life over the last several months would rise in her mind, and she'd probably come to one conclusion. The right one. In short, his cover would be blown.

Yet she couldn't look after the child every minute of every day. Vlad leaned forward, and started closing all the audio and video files he had open. Perhaps he would watch her and see how she handled things? Then he could go from there, and decide if stepping in was really necessary. If his hand was forced, he could at least reveal himself at a time that best served his purposes.

After closing up the unwanted files, Vlad clicked on another folder, labeled "SMaptmnt". Inside were individual files, continually streamed from a remote location. They were labeled "living", "dining", "bed", and so on.

* * *

Sam's Apartment

Sam sat on her bed in a daze, Nathaniel in her lap. Actually, she was in more of a slump, legs stretched out in front of her, head propped up by a pillow. She had been reading, the book still propped up, but had given up after zoning out for the third time in the last ten minutes.

A nasty little fear had been growing in the back of her mind as she sat trying to stave off sleep for the next few minutes. Why hadn't it concerned her before? Probably she'd been too tired, she supposed. Not that she wasn't tired now.

She had only come home from the hospital earlier that day, even though it was Sunday and she'd had the baby very early Friday morning. She'd been strongly encouraged by Dr. Evans to stay at the hospital a few days since she didn't have anyone at home to help her with the baby yet. (Her husband was supposedly due back in a week's time.)

There was no husband coming, however, and her baby could, well…_take off_ way too easily. Dr. Evans had assured her nothing like that had happened over the past few days, when she'd been resting. But how could she know it wouldn't happen tonight? Yet she couldn't stay at the hospital to have Nathaniel looked after 24/7, nor would she want to.

The problem was Dr. Evans. He'd taken a special interest in this birth due to its unusual nature, and had hardly left the baby's side. She'd gotten more sleep than _him_ over the past few days.

It creeped her out more than a little bit, to be frank. He seemed a little _too_ interested in Nathaniel. Staying there any longer hadn't appealed after she'd gotten her strength back enough to pack up and head home. How _could_ she stay when the thought was running through her head that…maybe he had been doing tests on Nathaniel when she was asleep? Nothing invasive, of course, but…maybe taking pictures, waiting to see if he would transform, something like that. But then again, maybe he _had_ gone further? He could've taken DNA, which was a frightening thought.

Sam didn't think she was being paranoid about this, either. There wasn't a time she could recall when Dr. Evans hadn't been there. Even in the early morning the night before, around 2:00 a.m. when she'd gotten up to use the restroom, he'd been sitting next to Nathaniel's crib, which had been moved to the foot of her bed. He'd looked dead on his feet, and slightly nervous. It had put her on edge.

She'd decided she was leaving the next day. Doctors weren't supposed to be like that; they let the nurses handle the grunt work. She'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she could _tell_ something wasn't right. Why the nervousness, for one?

In fact, all of his behaviors had been off, from his smile to the way he moved. He was too on edge, and because of that she couldn't help thinking he was up to no good. The only thing that didn't add up was how happy he'd seemed to see her go earlier that day. Relieved, almost.

Sam blinked blearily, trying to focus on the book she still _wasn't_ reading, then put it to the side in disgust. Whatever. She hadn't been comfortable at the hospital, so she'd left, decision made. She was done with speculating.

Sam slumped onto her side, taking Nathaniel with her. The problem was, she was getting sleepy, but was scared to put Nathaniel down in order to get rest. What if he simply floated away while she slept?

She felt her eye lids falling closed, like unstoppable marble slabs descending. Maybe just a few minutes rest…surely she'd know if he transformed while in her arms. That was it…she'd just have to keep him with her…all the time. She could…do…that…

Sam was snoring softly a few moments later.

* * *

Sam was outdoors with a beautiful blue sky above, lush green grass below, and tall graceful trees dotting the landscape all around. There weren't any houses, or telephone poles, or anything else obstructing nature nearby. She was floating, rather comfortably, in midair.

Someone was calling her, up above, and when she turned to look she saw Nathaniel, his cherubic face smiling down at her.

Except that he was blue. His eyes, also, were red, and his ears were pointed. The tuft of black hair had turned ghostly white. She only stared for a second before gliding towards him, however. He was her baby, whatever he looked like. Besides, she was hardly a stranger to freaky looks, and the white hair was kinda cool.

As she swam towards him, she heard a clicking sound coming from below. Glancing down, she saw Dr. Evans, camera in his hands. He was taking pictures of them. _The jerk!_ She was tempted to fly down and do something nasty with that camera, but suddenly someone was screaming…in her ear…

Sam woke, feeling groggy, and immediately began trying to hush Nathaniel, who was in fact screaming in her ear. Was he hungry, needed to be burped, what…? Dang. That smell was a dead give away. He needed a change. Sam groaned, holding him at a distance, and got up off the bed. Her back cracked loudly, and she realized that falling asleep on her side with her legs hanging off the bed hadn't been the smartest move. Urg, and her arms were already getting tired from holding Nathaniel away from her. She hobbled over to the bathroom as quickly as she could, arms starting to wobble, legs and back aching.

At least she was prepared for this, even though she'd only done it once before. Nurse Kelly had given her a lesson! The woman's sickly sweet smile was still fresh in Sam's memory, and a sarcastic imitation of it found its way to her lips. It turned to a scowl as soon as the diaper came off. _Oh, **gross**, the smell, I'm gonna gag! _Changing diapers was _not_ supposed to be a chipper experience. She got down to business, getting the job over and done with in record time.

_What a wake-up call._ Sam exited the bathroom a few minutes later, heading back to bed, and glanced at her alarm clock. 8:30 p.m. She'd only dropped off about an hour ago, then. No wonder she still felt so tired. It was a good thing she'd left the hospital, though. That dream was _proof_ she wouldn't have slept well there.

Realizing she was thirsty, she got back up again, Nathaniel still in her arms, and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, thinking back on the dream as she went.

She'd had such a strong feeling of being watched in that dream. When she'd turned away to look at the doctor, she'd felt it. And when she'd been paying attention to Nathaniel, she'd felt the doctor's presence behind her as he continued taking pictures.

Feeling unsettled, Sam finished up chugging a glass of water, refilled it, and wandered into the tiny dining room to sit at her table. She looked down when she felt tiny hands prodding her, and smiled. One cherubic face, sans the white hair and pointy ears, was staring up at her. Nathaniel was wide awake now and ready for breakfast. She leaned back and got him started, the recent dream floating away like so much fog, and felt herself fall into a warm haze. _You're confused, little guy. This is dinner. Or maybe _I'm_ the one who's confused…_

After a few minutes of zoning out while she slowly finished her second glass of water, she wandered back into the bedroom, being careful not to jostle Nathaniel, and propped herself up on the bed, watching him. He was so tiny! He was also utterly dependant on her, and completely trusting. She slipped her forefinger into one of his teensy hands, studying him. What would he look like when transformed? How many features of…

Sam sighed to herself, and let the name come. Danny. How many of his features would he have? Somehow she couldn't help hoping that he'd look more like, well, like _her_ Danny looked as a ghost. Danny could almost pass for human, after all. No fangs or red eyes, or pointy ears. And once in a blue moon people _were_ born with white hair. Speaking of blue, though…blue skin would be the biggest problem if he were to transform in a public place.

She began running her hand through his tiny tuft of black hair, wondering how to prepare for that. She was only now realizing how many things she hadn't planned for. She had to go shopping soon, for one. She didn't have hardly any baby clothes for him, and she needed to buy stuff for cleaning him (_lots_ of stuff for cleaning him). She also needed to research what to feed him, and when. She needed a way to carry him so her arms wouldn't fall off. The list went on and on. This was going to be a really busy time for her.

Yet right now, as she studied her child, Sam couldn't concentrate on all that stuff too much. Really, whatever she had to do, it was _worth_ it. For him, she could handle weird sleeping patterns. For him, she could change diapers for a while.

She stopped running her hand through his hair as he started showing signs of getting sleepy, and after a few moments he finished his meal, letting out a contented grunt. With the tiniest of sighs he curled up slightly, falling asleep where he lay. Sam's heart melted at the tiny sounds he'd made, and a huge smile plastered itself across her face. For a moment, she was so…happy, so _grateful_ everything had gone right with him up to this point that she could almost cry.

After waiting a few minutes to make sure he was asleep, Sam repositioned herself so that she could get some more shut-eye herself, and soon she was drifting off again, feeling warm and content. Life wasn't going to be easy, she knew, but moments like these made it all worthwhile.

* * *

Author's note: Okay, now you know why it's called "Interlude". Nothing much really happened. But I've got to set things up, and...stuff. Anyay, this probably needs a beta reader, or something. In any case this feels like one of those chapters, when I go back over the whole story, that I'll most definitely edit heavily, or just re-write.

Erg. As such, comments and suggestions would be really, really wonderful! Thanks! (chipper, creepy smile)


	10. Idaho

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Author's Note: Okay, before I start this chapter, I just wanted to call you guys out who have reviewd my fanfiction! It really bolsters me up, and has kept me writing! Thank you guys soooo much! (The order is completely arbirtrary, by the way.) **

**Leppers, Liece18, Cassie, Lyoko's Princes, **

**lub2bamom, Galateagirl, Raven of the Night676, **

**Celestial Moonshine, FentonPhantom :), **

**The Raven of the Night, Divine-Red-Crayon, **

**Cassidy, Emma, Annabelle Carter, **

**Twistes Rain, Me The Anon One.****  
**

**I love talking about Danny Phantom nearly as much as I like writing it (and reading it, though I haven't done much of that lately :) so when you guys actually comment, and start up a dialogue with me, all I can say is...woot! You guys rock! **

**lol...Sorry for the long author's note, on to the story. :) **

**Chapter 10: Idaho**

* * *

October 1st

Sam wrestled with her purse, attempting to extract her apartment key with her hands already full. Nathaniel was in one arm, and shopping bags were in the other. Giving up, she leaned down and put the bags down temporarily to rifle through her purse more effectively.

One thing was for sure; all this lifting was toning up her arms. Ah, success! She finally got the door open, having found the key wedged at the bottom of her purse. It had fallen out of the side compartment she usually kept it in, apparently. Blowing some hair out of her face and grabbing up the bags, she pushed her way inside and kicked the door closed behind her.

She was so tired! But at least she'd gotten some important things done. Sam now owned a book on what to feed infants. Plus she'd gotten the perfect tool for freeing up her hands. Since Nathaniel had to be with or near her at all times, she'd been looking for some sort of carrying device for him.

Today she'd found one. It clipped around her waste and her shoulders, and could be adjusted for use on her back, like a backpack, or in the front. She figured the front was safer, if a bit more cumbersome, but that way he'd be in her line of sight and she'd know immediately if he transformed.

Luckily it was getting into winter, so bundling Nathaniel up in mittens and a hood (that could be pulled very far down in case of emergencies) wasn't out of the ordinary.

After making it inside, she dropped the bags and, fishing out the baby carrier, headed for the bedroom with Nathaniel in tow. She'd get it adjusted just right after a quick nap. The baby was sleeping, so this was an opportunity she couldn't pass up. If there was one thing she'd learned this past week, it was that her daily routine depended on Nathaniel's sleeping patterns.

The truth was she hadn't gotten more than two hours of solid sleep at any given time, and since Nathaniel's days and nights were mixed up, hers were going that direction too. She ate whenever she had time, which unfortunately wasn't ever long enough for her to cook a decent meal. As such she'd given in and bought some quick fix stuff earlier in the week.

Sam sat down on the bed, and fell back in slow motion, not wanting to jostle Nathaniel. She was utterly drained of energy, and couldn't pretend that the stress wasn't starting to get to her a little. Things wouldn't be too bad if it wasn't for the sleep issue, really. If she could _just_ get a solid night, just once a week, even, things would be okay. Tonight, for instance.

Sam drifted off, knowing she'd most likely be woken within the hour.

* * *

October 8th

Two weeks. She hadn't gotten a decent night's rest in two weeks. She hadn't gotten _two straight hours_ in two weeks.

Soft music played from Sam's laptop, which sat only a few feet away at the moment. She was sitting up in bed nursing Nathaniel, and it was three in the morning. She'd had the laptop for a long time, but the speaker (only one) was something she'd gotten the week before at Goodwill. She'd _really_ needed something, some sort of entertainment for around the house, since now that was where she had to stay most of the time.

She found her taste in music was changing fast, and that she was beginning to understand why some genres even _existed_. Teenage angst wasn't something a single mother needed to deal with, after all. Plus it might upset the baby, and she was discovering that she'd go to extreme lengths to avoid _that_.

There was nothing wrong with him, of course. It was just that if she could persuade Nathaniel to sleep or at least doze for a few more minutes here and there, that resulted in a little more time to herself. And she _needed_ that time more than she needed soothing music.

But the music did help. It filled up the silence, which almost had a presence of its own sometimes. The silence encouraged her mind to wander, her imagination to wake up, and she didn't like where her thoughts would go sometimes. Also, the feeling of being watched would come occasionally, and it was always stronger without some noise or activity to distract her.

Unfortunately, taking care of Nathaniel's basic needs had slowly become habit, and at this point she could go on autopilot half the time. If only she wasn't so _tired_, she could do interesting little things part of the time, like read a good book. But that took energy and concentration, and she didn't have any left to spare.

And she _didn't_ want her thoughts to wander, damn it! She'd had control over where her mind went for months now, and had been doing just fine _because_ of that. But without the sleep, her mental guard was down, and that control was slipping fast.

Thoughts she'd been holding back were surfacing at odd moments, and her dreams were starting to get frightening. Also, she was beginning to feel genuinely lonely. She _missed_ her friends, she _missed_ her family. She missed Danny.

Sam tasted salt as the tears began rolling down her cheeks, and realized she was…crying. And once she started, she found it hard to stop, and poor Nathaniel could tell something was wrong. Before she knew it her chest was heaving, and she found it hard to stifle the sobs.

She missed them! She wanted her mother. She wanted to curl up in her arms and be a little kid again, and to hear her say everything was okay, it was _okay_ she'd had a baby, it was _okay_ she'd been gone for over half a year. She wanted to hear that she was loved _no matter what. _

She wanted someone she could trust to look after Nathaniel while she took a long nap, and for someone to hold _her_ while she slept. She didn't want to worry about how she was going to support herself when she ran out of money!

She was pacing the room, crying openly now, and Nathaniel was crying quietly with her. She looked down at him, feeling miserable, and saw his worried, helpless expression. She could almost hear his thoughts. _What's wrong, what's **wrong**?_

Stifling another sob, she tried desperately to get herself under control. She couldn't do this to him; she couldn't _do_ this to him! It wasn't just herself she was looking out for anymore. It was her and Nathaniel. She had to be stronger than before, not weaker!

She tried her best to comfort Nathaniel, a wobble still in her voice. But the thought welled up in her that _she_ needed comforting; _she_ needed reassuring. Yet that was almost immediately followed by _another_ thought that here and now, she was the grownup, and there was no one else to do this for her. _Suck it up, Sam, you can deal with this!_

She sat down at the bed, Nathaniel in her lap, and concentrated on getting herself _really_ under control. She could do this. She _had_ to do this. And she'd made Nathaniel cry by getting upset like that, when the only real problem was a little lack of sleep. _Ha!_ Sleep was for weaklings! Sam laughed suddenly at her own thoughts, voice still a little wobbly. The mood had passed, at least, even if it was replaced by that silly, giddy state she sometimes got into when very, very tired.

She stood back up, letting out a whoosh of air in the process, and then made her way to the kitchen, cooing to Nathaniel on the way. She'd probably cried half a glass of water just then.

* * *

October 15th

Sam sat at her dining room table (well…her dining _area_ table, anyway), chin propped up on the palm of one hand, staring into space. There had to be a way to deal with this. She just wasn't _seeing_ it.

Things couldn't continue as they were going. She just couldn't keep Nathaniel _with_ her 24/7! It was driving her slowly crazy.

She was starting to have waking dreams, which only happened when a person's brain forced them in the REM state due to a severe lack of sleep. The other night she'd nearly had a heart attack when she'd seen her mother standing behind her in the bathroom mirror. It had been her imagination, but for a split second it was all too real.

And taking showers was a nightmare, or cooking any sort of food. Her days and nights were spent juggling Nathaniel from one arm to another, which couldn't be fun for him any more than it was for her. She only put him down for any length of time were when she was showering (which was why it was such a nightmare), and even then he was only a few feet away.

The problem was that she _had_ to maintain that physical contact. If he were to go intangible when she wasn't touching him, there would be nothing she could do. If she was touching him, at least there would be a good chance that she'd change with him, and be able to keep him with her. As such, she timed her showers for when he was sleeping soundly, knowing that it was unlikely for Danny to change over in his sleep, and hoping the same would be true for Nathaniel.

Sam put her head down on the table, mind muddled. She was utterly fatigued, and _really_ wanted to crawl into bed. But this was as clear a head as she was likely to have anytime soon if she didn't come up with a solution to this problem.

So…what could she do? When a ghost turned intangible, there was nothing you could do to catch them unless you brought out the heavy artillery, like the Fenton thermos. And that was absolutely out of the question, unless she wanted to go down in history as the _worst mother ever_. The only other ghost related thing she had was a stunner, which was also not an option. She drummed her fingers, her whole arm feeling brittle and achy, her mind wandering.

As such, she nearly jumped out of her skin when someone knocked on the door, and came dangerously close to smacking her forehead on the table. She looked up groggily. _What…?_

Only one person had knocked since she'd moved in, and that was because they were at the wrong apartment. She didn't get mail, and she never had anything delivered. Standing up, Nathaniel on her hip (he was patting her breastbone happily) she checked herself over. Well…she looked like a single mother. And her hair had grown out a little since the last time she'd dyed it, showing the black roots, since she simply hadn't had time to bother with her appearance after the birth. She headed towards the door, patting herself one more time to make sure her front was buttoned up. She frowned to herself as she took a peak in the eyehole. It was probably just someone at the wrong door agai…

Sam froze in shock, her mouth stuck in a silent 'oh' shape. _No. No, no! _This couldn't be happening! How, when…?

Vlad Masters, Danny's arch enemy…Vlad the billionaire, Vlad the _halfa_, was standing at her front door. He appeared to be waiting patiently, a pleasant expression on his face. Sam was still frozen, her mind attempting to go into denial. Somewhere the puzzle pieces were clicking into places, however. The feeling of being watched…the free hospital bill…the doctor…these things weren't unrelated…

After a moment he knocked again, a little louder. Sam was jolted out of her daze, and started thinking fast. Thankfully the fog in her mind from a minute ago was being burned away by an adrenaline surge. She didn't move for a moment more, thinking things through. It was no coincidence he was here, and if she didn't let him in there was nothing stopping him from just phasing through the door. And he probably would. Better to have him where she could see him, at least.

She headed back to the bedroom, throwing a "Just a minute!" over her shoulder. She needed to get something.

A minute later she was back, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. Nathaniel, meanwhile, looked rather excited by the whole thing. He knew something was up, even as young as he was.

She opened the door and stepped back with it, looking silently out at her smartly dressed visitor. He had something tucked under his left arm.

Vlad smiled at her. "Samantha! How have you been?" When she didn't respond he forged on. "I…expect this comes as some surprise. May I come in?" He added.

She pursed her lips, and answered quietly. She actually hadn't talked full out in days, and so her voice was a little weak. "What _are_ you, a vampire?" Well, he _looked_ like one half the time, after all, and he _was_ waiting for permission to enter. She sighed when he gave her a look. "Come in." _It's not like I could stop you._

As he entered she brought the hand hidden behind the door out, and an instant later there was a scorching sound and a bright glow of energy as she touched the Plasmius Maximus to Vlad. He jerked back about a foot, looking frazzled, and she let herself smirk. She'd succeeded in catching him completely by surprise, knowing that he'd go intangible the moment he saw the device in her hand, and couldn't help feeling somewhat proud about it.

He pulled down his coat and straightened back up, looking affronted. "Really, _really_, there was hardly any need for that. What do you think I'm going to do, _attack_ you?" She let the smirk drop, to be replaced by a calculating expression. A strange moment passed in which something embarrassing seemed to occur to Vlad, and he looked away. She continued to watch him stoically, wondering what was going through his mind.

She decided to break the ice. "I just wanted to put us on a slightly more level playing ground." She swallowed, realizing just how nervous she was. "Come all the way in, I'm not going to have a conversation at the front door." He moved further in, a tad more warily this time, and she closed the door.

"I have two chairs at the dining room table, come on." She led him through the living room and over to the dining area, which was simply designated by a shift from carpet to tile. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was amazed at how calmly she was acting. But then, she was so very, very tired.

She found she wanted to put off whatever conversation Vlad had in mind. "Would you…like something to drink?" She hefted Nathaniel up a little and waited for an answer.

A feeling of looking down on things from a distance was starting to overtake Sam. This had to be a dream; it was just too surreal. She'd just invited Vlad into her apartment, and was offering him a drink! But what else could she do, attack him with a blunt object?

He was still standing, hands on the back of his chair. "Thank you, no. Please, sit down yourself." He waited until she was seated before joining her, a true gentleman. Sam snorted mentally.

She supposed it was time to cut to the chase. "How long have you been watching me?"

Vlad shrugged his shoulders, looking innocent in an entirely unconvincing way. "I haven't been _watching_ you, per se."

"Okay…how long have you _known_ where I _was_?" Something occurred to her, and she added in a voice that betrayed her worry, "And have you told anyone?"

An almost genuine look of concern flitted across his face, and he glanced down at Nathaniel for a moment before responding. "No. My dear, dear Samantha. Of _course_ not. And to answer you first question, I never lost track of you."

They held eyes for a moment, and then she let out a small gasp as she understood. _Of course! How stupid!_

He smiled slightly when he was sure she'd figured it out. "Yes, I suppose it was _worth_ getting stunned by the Plasmius Maximus since it's proven so useful to me over the months."

Sam felt her jaw clench and narrowed her eyes, feeling somehow betrayed and more than a little angry. "What do you want, Vlad? Why are you here?" She unconsciously hugged Nathaniel to her, terrified that she already knew the answer.

The gesture didn't go unnoticed. Vlad leaned back in the chair, face softening considerably. He laid his hands on the table, as if showing his cards, and sighed. "I…have been watching you enough to know how hard these past months have been on you, Samantha. I want to _help_." He waited for her response, a look of compassion on his face. That expression, however genuine it seemed, was alien to her when associated with Vlad. The feeling of being in the Twilight Zone returned stronger than before.

She looked away, trying to think things through. The last time she had taken something from him, he'd betrayed her trust by tracking where she went. And then there were all the other things he'd done over the years. Did he _really_ think she would trust him?

She needed to do some digging, and find out why he was really here. Did he know that Nathaniel was half ghost? He _had_ to if her growing suspicion about Dr. Evans was right. Besides, she'd had the distinct feeling of being watched over the last weeks, and she was pretty sure she knew why.

But how to get him to admit it? Maybe being blunt was best, in the hopes that her hunch about the doctor was right? She tried to keep her face unreadable as she turned to answer him, even though her stomach was roiling with fear.

"You haven't been threatening any hapless doctors lately, by chance?"

He smirked at her. "Very _good_, Samantha. I haven't harmed anyone, however. Just a few warnings here and there."

"As Vlad Plasmius, no doubt." _Poor Dr. Evans._ No wonder he'd been so happy to see her go.

He gave her a somber look for a moment, followed by a brief smile. "Coercion is nearly as good, and sometimes better, you know. He's been paid for his troubles."

Her eyebrows drew together as this sank in, and she broke his gaze. She suddenly didn't want to think about the doctor anymore. "What else have you done?"

"I took care of your hospital bills. That bit about a grant was just a fabrication." She'd thought so. "I may have…helped you to acquire the money for this apartment."

She looked up, momentarily stunned. "You rigged the lottery?" She huffed at the laugh in his eyes, and looked away again. She should've guessed. What were the chances?

Feeling more confident about her position, if no less threatened, she locked eyes with him and proceeded to bore holes into his forehead. "I _know_ why you're really here, Vlad. I'm not stupid." But she wasn't willing to say it out loud either.

This time he dropped his gaze, and looked down at Nathaniel. He smiled at him, trying, and failing in her mind, to look un-intimidating. "You're very intelligent, as I told you before, Samantha. So I won't insult you. I admit that Nathaniel intrigues me. I…hadn't thought it was possible for a ghost and a human to have a child together, you see." He looked up in time to see her gasp, and watched her carefully.

Sam's thoughts were sent roiling, and she suddenly felt completely out classed. She also felt strangely violated. How much did he _know_? He'd obviously done research, if he knew it wasn't Danny's. _Her_ Danny's. But he couldn't know the exact circumstances, there was no way…

She calmed down a little, trying to wipe the look of shock off her face. How dare he come in here fishing for information like this! It wasn't any of his business! Her _life_ wasn't any of his business!

She stood up, voice ringing out. "My son isn't an experiment, Vlad, he's a human being! And if you _ever_ try to take him from me…"

He interrupted her, looking flabbergasted, hands up in the air. "Please, no, _why_ would I want to do that, woman?" That stopped her dead. _Woman?_ "Do you really think I want to have a squalling brat on my hands? Can you _really_ imagine Vlad Masters changing a dirty diaper, my dear?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "No, but I can imagine one of your servants doing it for you, Vlad. And don't call me _woman_."

He paused, a little surprised, and raised his eyebrows at her. "You have a one month old baby. _Clearly_ you are." He smiled, and she was amazed and more than a little embarrassed when a tiny blush crept across her cheeks.

"That's not the point. And don't call me 'my dear' either." She scowled down at him.

His smiled softened, and he leaned back again, putting his hands on his knees. "_Please_ sit back down. I didn't mean to upset you." He waited for her to sit, and then went on, speaking quietly. "Of _course_ Nathaniel is a human being. I of all people should understand this, being a halfa myself. There are simply so few others like me that I can't help but be interested in him." His brows knitted together. "It isn't malicious, however. There are no tricks up my sleeve, Samantha. I simply want to make sure you have all the tools you need to take proper care of a half ghost child." He held her eyes for a moment, and then almost meekly looked down at the table.

She _wished_ she could trust that sincere look in his eyes, but this man was a master at lying with a straight face. He'd done it time and again, and she was beyond being fooled by it anymore.

"What tools would those _be_?" She looked on warily as he stood up from the table, retrieving the thing he'd been carrying earlier from the floor. It was roughly shaped like a closed laptop, though nearly two times larger.

"I'll show you." She got up and followed him slowly as he eagerly trotted into the living room, and for a strange moment she was reminded of Jack showing off one of his new inventions.

Vlad placed the box on the ground, looking to see how it was pointed, then pressed down at two different places on the top. Immediately it extended to each side perhaps two feet either direction, and then unfolded forward away from Vlad, making a flat square on the floor about four feet in diameter. A moment later the edges, which were ridged, extended upwards about two or three feet, forming an open box. Lastly, one of the top edges continued extending on one side, creating what was clearly a flat roof you could close over the top if you wanted. The entire thing was made of a dull metallic looking material, and it was so thin she could actually see through the walls somewhat.

He came to stand next to her and crossed his arms, looking at it. "Want to guess what it is?"

Feeling comically morbid, she answered. "I don't know, some kind of gigantic roach trap?" Vlad gave her an irritated look, and she couldn't blame him. The joke reeked, like a _gigantic dead roach_.

She couldn't stop herself from snorting. Ugh. She needed sleep. She'd laugh at anything when she was dead tired.

Sam looked up to see the icy stare of Oscar the Grouch turned evil. She raised her eyebrows and smirked. _Some_ people needed a sense of humor around here.

"So…what is it? Something practical, I assume?"

He pursed his lips, dropping the glare of death and looking back at the box. "Yes, very practical. It's a play pen, or a crib, either one."

"Well, gee, thanks Vlad," she grumped, "that's just _exactly_…"

"For halfas." She stopped. Oh. Duh.

"So if he transforms…?"

His smirk returned. "Yes. It will hold him, though you might want to add a few blankets and such for comfort, of course. And it isn't air tight with the roof on, in case you were worried." Actually, it hadn't occurred to her as of yet, but then she hadn't sat around designing and building the thing.

She pursed her lips. "So…what _else_ does it do? Fly off to your mansion in the middle of the night?" She turned and started back to the kitchen table, knees already aching. She wasn't about to admit this was actually _exactly_ what she needed. Besides, it probably _would_ float away while she was sleeping…

She felt a hand on her arm and stopped, looking at it. Eyes narrowing, she looked up at Vlad next, and shrugged off his hand.

He was looking at her beseechingly. "What do I have to do to convince you I'm just trying to help?"

"What _haven't_ you done _not_ to convince me? The truth is I can't trust you farther than I can throw you, and I'm very worn out right now, so that would probably be about a _foot_."

He rolled his eyes at her and crossed his arms. "I've spent a lot of time and money making your life easier, Samantha. It's true I didn't want you to know I knew. Call it a habit, if you will, but you must admit I had my reasons. I wanted to watch _over_ you, and if you had caught on to the fact that I was tracking you with the ghost hunting equipment, you might've done something drastic like gotten yourself good and truly lost. And where would you be right now?" He frowned at her. "You have to admit I've made your life quite a lot easier."

She frowned back. She didn't care about that! He could've blown a million dollars on her for all she cared, since everything he did was ultimately self serving. If there wasn't anything in it for him, he wouldn't have lifted a _finger_, and she knew it. She wasn't about to feel grateful for that kind of help.

"Then why show yourself now, if you've already made my life so much easier? Wouldn't it be preferable if I never found out about all this?"

"I could hardly leave you a gift designed specifically for halfas without giving myself away, and you're clearly in need of it." He looked her up and down quickly, and then glanced around the apartment as he continued to speak. "You look dead on your feet, and this place is hardly being what I'd call maintained."

There was a pause in which she glowered at him, and he added, almost as an afterthought, "My hand was forced, you see."

They locked eyes for a moment before she turned toward the dining room once again.

She heard Vlad's voice behind her, sounding surprised and somewhat annoyed. "Where are you going?"

She didn't bother to look back. "You're right, I'm tired." She slumped into a chair, and turned to face him, not really comfortable having him behind her.

He looked at her for a moment, and then turned to drag the playpen over to her. _Stubborn!_ "Alright, I'll just bring it to you, then." It appeared to be very light, since he only needed one hand to pull it over, and she couldn't help thinking that was a definite plus. Not that she was going to use it.

"Now, if you want to close it up, just press down hard on these two buttons." She noticed two lighter grey squares near the top of the box, separated by a couple of feet. "If something is still inside, it won't close properly. A sort of fail safe should you accidentally trigger it somehow. Not that you will."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I _would_ have demonstrated its usefulness by showing I couldn't phase through it, but since you _zapped_ me back there…" He paused. Was he actually waiting for an _apology_? She tried to stifle a yawn, and failed.

"So…I'm still waiting for the switch that makes it fly away." She moved around a bit on the chair, trying to get more comfortable, and waited for him to get angry.

It didn't come. Instead, he just leaned down and placed his hands on two buttons visible on one side of the pen-turned-oversized-laptop. "Now, when you open it, _my dear_, make sure these buttons are facing you, otherwise it will attempt to open _underneath_ you." He pressed the buttons again, and it once again sprang up into a box. It only took a few moments to open and close, really.

"So, what are you calling it? The _Plasmius Playpen_?" _Why_ was she trying to aggravate him? She must be out of her mind! But then she _knew_ he wasn't really here "just to help" and something about his manipulative nature was _really_ ticking her off.

Vlad gave her a dole look. "Very quaint, my dear. You may call it whatever you like." He closed it up once again, picked it up, and put it on the table next to her. Suddenly she felt closed in, with him standing so near while she sat, and she realized she was on the verge of losing her temper with him. _Cut the crap, you manipulative…_

"Beeemmeee…aaah." They both looked down at Nathaniel, who was looking up at Sam, eyes wide. She knew that look. He was going to start crying pretty fast if he didn't get fed. Suddenly her anger at Vlad fell by the wayside, and almost by habit she started unbuttoning her shirt. She froze suddenly, coming to her senses.

She looked up into Vlad's wide eyes, who coughed, and turned away hurriedly. "I'll just be over here." She didn't miss the fact that his cheeks were tinged pink. Now _there_ was an unusual sight.

Sam would've laughed if she wasn't somewhat embarrassed too. At the same time, it was a perfectly natural function, and she also felt somewhat offended that she even _felt_ embarrassed. This was nothing to be ashamed of!

As she got Nathaniel going, she called across the room to Vlad, feeling indignant. "It's just breastfeeding, you know!" She frowned at his turned back. "And it's not like you haven't been watching me!"

He half turned. "Not _this_ I haven't!" _Ha! A confession!_ She could see he was flustered by what he'd said as he turned back around and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

She snorted. "You twisted man. You came in here just when you thought I couldn't refuse you little gift, _didn't_ you? You say I'm so smart, but obviously you _really_ think I'm an idiot!" She saw his back stiffen slightly, and she continued. "You've probably been floating around here, watching me fall apart, watching me struggle, and _calculating_, like you _always_ do, when I would be just _begging_ to use your stupid playpen! And then you expect me to be _grateful_ for all the _wonderful help_ you've given me, you egotistical, manipula…"

Vlad interrupted her, stalking over to her quickly, and she sat up, every muscle tense. "Fine! There's no need to shout insults at me! I will be _absolutely_ truthful with you! It is in my _nature_ to be cautious, and to make things easier for me. As such, I've waited until I thought you wouldn't refuse my help. But think! What else was I supposed to do, come to you earlier, when you still thought you could handle _not sleeping_, when you'd yell me out the door and refuse to even speak with me?" She took a breath to answer and was cut off. "Don't deny it! If there's one thing I know about you, it's that you're _very_ strong willed! You would've probably packed up and left if I'd come to you sooner!"

Sam stood up to face him, tears in her eyes. She'd been getting slowly angrier, but now she was steaming from the ears. "I may _still_, and that doesn't change the fact that all you're _really_ after is _my baby_!" Her voice broke a little, and Nathaniel, his meal completely disrupted, started howling loudly.

She turned away suddenly, tears making a line down her face, and tried to calm down Nathaniel. She felt raw, and very exposed. Well hell, she _was_ exposed.

"I thought you were going to stay across the room, you idiot." Her voice sounded hoarse. She could hear him move, and was surprised when he sat down at the table with her, mostly turned away from her. He didn't answer.

A few minutes passed while she got Nathaniel comfortable again, and fed. It gave them both a chance to calm down, and her a chance to surreptitiously clean her face up, though she couldn't hide the sniffling noises she made. Her sense of humor almost returned when she noticed how red Vlad's face had briefly turned. Apparently he was decent enough to be embarrassed, at least.

As usual, Nathaniel was ready for a nap after his meal, so she settled him down, his head on her shoulder, wishing she could go take a nap herself. She sighed, and gave herself a quick once over.

"I'm done, you can turn around if you like." Sam was strangely calm now, though a pain had formed deep down in her belly. His presence, his _knowledge_ of Nathaniel was terrifying to her.

Vlad looked over cautiously, and as with most men, his eyes were drawn briefly down, and then back up again. _So predictable._ Though she supposed she couldn't blame him under the circumstances. Sam sighed, and decided he'd never speak again if she didn't say something.

"I think you've been lying and manipulative so long, you probably don't know how _not_ to be, Vlad. Don't answer, just let me finish," she added quickly. He wanted to interrupt, but now that she had started, she was going to finish! "The thing is, I know more about you than most of the people you deal with probably do. I know you're half ghost, you're obsessed with Maddie Fenton, and that you want Danny for a son. I know what your motivations are, at least to some extent. This means I can guess what you're doing here, and if you really expect me to be overjoyed at that, you're just crazy, Vlad."

He didn't respond for several moments, face tight. Finally he leaned back, relaxing a little, and put his hands on the table again. He met her eyes. "It's almost refreshing in a way, talking to you. It may seem strange, but sometimes I truly crave simply…dropping the game of chess, so to speak. Being straight forward. And you know, I _am_ straight forward about some things, Samantha. Daniel knows what I want from him. So does Maddie. And you and your friends know that I'll try to manipulate things in my favor, so from that perspective, I'm hardly doing anything you weren't prepared for on some level."

Sam closed her eyes, and played with Nathaniel's hair. "That's twisted reasoning and you know it." She paused, waiting for him to answer, and when he didn't she went on. "I. _Love_. Nathaniel. Do you understand that? He is my _child_. Then you come here, obsessed with having a _half ghost son_, and you don't expect me to get upset?"

"What makes you think I'm not still focused on Daniel?" He went on, looking up at the ceiling. "Who, I might add, has developed a similarly secretive way of dealing with people. That's simply part of being half ghost, as you well know." She felt her throat tighten at the mention of Danny, a pang of worry and loneliness welling up.

"H-how is he?" Sam couldn't stop the words; they'd just popped out. But she couldn't take them back now, and so repeated the question more firmly. "Danny. How's he doing? I know you watch him."

Vlad was strangely quiet, and she could almost hear the gears shifting in his head. Anything he said would be completely twisted, so _why_ had she even asked him? She was suddenly terrified at what he might tell her.

"Never mind! Never mind. You won't tell me the truth anyway." Sam looked away, feeling heartbroken and trying to hide it. She shouldn't have brought him up like that.

She looked up when she felt Vlad's eyes on her, and wished she hadn't. _Don't look at me like that! _She didn't want see that look of sympathy, of empathetic understanding. It made her want to cry. This was _Vlad_! She did _not_ need his comfort!

"You're such a strong person, Samantha. You really are. I can't _imagine_ what this had been like for you. And everything you've done has been to protect Daniel from…from finding out." He seemed unsure how to word that, and looked at her, seemingly waiting for something.

"It's _not_ his." Again, she couldn't stop the words. She had to protect him, it was true. She had to protect his honor. "We didn't have that kind of relationship."

He titled his head a little to the side. "It _isn't_ his, and yet it _is_ at the same time. Isn't that right?" There was a strange look in his eyes, like he wanted something from her but was afraid to make her angry.

She kept quiet, not knowing what to say, and not _wanting_ to say anything.

"You were attacked, weren't you, Samantha." It was a statement more than a question. She looked down, something twisting inside her, and suddenly felt ashamed. Anger followed quickly after. How…how _dare_ he try to talk to her about that!

"Listen, Danny has _nothing_ to do with Nathaniel, and that's all you need to _know_!" Sam checked herself, looking down at said person, remembering he was sound asleep at present.

Vlad noted her unwillingness to wake the baby, and took advantage of it. "I know he is Daniel's double, Samantha. Except older, and pure ghost, I believe." He paused for a moment, then added, "Who is he? I'll tell you what I know about him if you'll do the same."

She stared at him. What _did_ he know? Did Vlad know where the…the _other_ Danny was right now? It had never made sense to her, how he'd just disappeared, instead of attacking Danny, though she'd speculated…

Sam realized she couldn't pass this by. "Why don't you tell me what you _think_ you know, and I _might_ answer a few questions." Two could play at this game.

Vlad pursed his lips. "You've taken the words right out of my mouth, unfortunately." He shrugged his shoulders. "Well…I'll tell you what I know about his current whereabouts if you tell me who he is?"

Sam's eyes widened. So he _did_ know where he was? What exactly should she tell him, though? Ah. She had it. "He's from…"

She stopped, staring at him hard. Something wasn't right…about his wording. Suddenly she glared daggers, figuring it out. "How do I know you know _anything_ about where he is right now? You didn't say you'd tell me where he was, only that you'd tell me what you _knew_ about where he was, which could be _nothing._ Sorry, nice try but no cigar."

Vlad got angry, which just proved she'd guessed right. "Why, you impertinent little…wench!" He glowered at her, his ace up the sleeve practically useless. Sam heard him mutter something that sounded like "butter biscuits" under his breath.

"If you hadn't blown up like that, you still _might_…have convinced me you _had_ something, you know." She smirked, entirely too happy at outwitting the man.

"You don't know _what_ I know." They stared at each other for a moment, and Vlad finally added, "Though I concede that I don't know where he is at present. That doesn't mean I don't have information you might find valuable."

Sam took a big breath and let it out in a long sigh. "Which one of us is more trustworthy, Vlad?" She paused for a second, then went on. "Look…I'll _promise_ to tell you something about him if you tell me what you know. Otherwise, I'm not telling you anything, because I obviously can't _trust_ you to hold up your end of the deal. So…take it, or leave it."

Vlad stared at her for a moment, looking aggravated. Would he think it was worth the trade? Apparently yes. "Alright Samantha. I'll tell you what I know. I have your promise that you will tell me who he is?"

"I'll tell you…some _things_ about him. I'm not promising a two hour discourse on the guy, though."

Vlad didn't look very happy at that, but must've known he wasn't going to get a better deal. "Indeed. Alright, then, this is something you probably didn't know. Right after he presumably attacked you…" He paused. "Around the 17th or 18th of December, correct?"

Sam nodded silently, a heavy weight settling in her stomach, throat suddenly too tight to speak. She looked at the table, unblinking, incapable at that moment of looking Vlad in the eyes. The fact that he knew…the fact that _anyone_ knew was horrible somehow.

He continued, ignoring her behavior completely. "Alright. As I was saying, after that, he went over to Daniel's home and confronted him."

The color slowly drained from Sam's face. He…_confronted_ Danny? He _talked_…to _Danny_? She stared at Vlad, speechless. Danny had never said anything about it, not for three months! Why…? Had he _known_? No, she would've been able to tell, there was _no way_ he knew…

"Surprised? All they did was talk for a while, nothing more. You weren't mentioned, at least directly, by the way." Relief flowed through Sam at those words, and she found herself questioning him anxiously.

"What _did_ they talk about? Why didn't they fight? Where did he go after that? Danny never mentioned this at all…" Suddenly she was suspicious again. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"How do you think I found out about this ghost in the first place? I have a hidden video camera in Jack's lab, which was where they met. The entire conversation is on tape. I didn't know what to think until I put two and two together concerning_ you._ And I might add that I'm being _completely_ honest. It's refreshing," he added. Sam looked at him strangely, but couldn't deny that Vlad _did_ have an unusually bright, almost eager look in his eyes.

"Okay. So tell me…what they talked about."

"Well, he was angry about being trapped in a Fenton thermos for two years, apparently. He seemed very depressed, and he frightened Daniel quite a bit. He threatened to tell him about you, but didn't. He also threatened to kill Daniel, saying he'd…done it before." He watched her closely at that. _He'd done it before…that made sense. He'd killed his human half, or at least that's what he'd _probably_ done, according to what Vlad from the future had told Danny…_

Sam looked away from Vlad, feeling suddenly weirded out. Vlad from the future, who'd…no longer had his ghost half because it had merged with Danny's. Somehow she'd forgotten that. Did that mean…? She shuddered, and stopped that train of thought dead. She wasn't going there, _especially_ with Vlad sitting just across from her.

"Did they talk about anything else?"

"Not really. Although there was something else he said that struck me as strange…or more specifically, something Daniel said. The ghost had insulted him, you see, and in response, Daniel taunted him by saying he was merely insulting _himself_. Strange, don't you think?" Vlad was focused on her like a hawk, watching for her reaction.

But it wasn't his turn yet; he could wait for answers. "Interesting…so what happened after that? They didn't fight, you said."

Vlad crossed his arms. "No. My camera malfunctioned, it seems. One moment they were about to spring at each other, the next Daniel was across the room and the ghost was gone. He didn't look like he'd been in a fight, however. And…my camera didn't register any time passing. That's what is truly peculiar, actually."

Sam relaxed a little. So…Clockwork had intervened. That had to be it. So did that mean he was locked up again? She felt strange, thinking of him locked in a thermos again. Not that he'd necessarily stay there. If he'd broken out once, he could do it again…

"I believe I've earned the right to ask a few questions myself. Are we agreed?" Sam looked up, realizing she'd gone into her own little world for a bit, and nodded.

"First and foremost, what is he?"

"He's…from the future. An alternate future. But he isn't Danny."

"Then why does he look so much like him? And when he said he'd killed Daniel, was it something he'd done in that future…?"

Sam looked down at the ground, speaking slowly. Telling him this shouldn't hurt anything, right? "He…a horrible accident happened, and Danny was split in two, one human and one ghost. Kind of like Jekyll and Hyde, but in two bodies. And…the ghost killed the human. What's left really isn't Danny. He's something much more evil than Danny could ever be." It wasn't quite the truth, but it would do. She looked up, and was surprised to see that Vlad looked more than a little disturbed. He wiped the look off his face quickly, however, obviously not distressed enough to stop asking questions.

"How did he get here, in this time?" Hmm. Sam wasn't sure she was willing to tell him about Clockwork. That could be really dangerous, couldn't it?

"Time travel, I guess." She smirked at the look Vlad gave her. "I don't _know_. In fact, since he's a pure ghost, he could be from the year 3000 for all I know. Maybe he came back here when people finally invented time travel?" Vlad didn't look convinced. Being so good at lying himself, he was probably a master at seeing through other people's lies. It didn't matter, though, because there was nothing he could do about it.

He moved on. "Why doesn't he look more like Daniel's ghost half? Why the flaming hair, blue skin, etcetera?"

"I have _no_ clue. Fashion statement?" She really _didn't_ have a clue about the flaming hair, at least. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sam acknowledged that she was quite proud of herself right now. She was calm, composed. She could handle this topic. It wasn't freaking her out, it _wasn't_ freaking her out…

"Why do I have the feeling you're not telling me everything you know?" She looked up into Vlad's grumpy face.

"Well…you can't hold all the cards all the time, can you?" Sam couldn't quite bring herself to say she was telling him the absolute truth with a straight face, so didn't even try. A few moments passed in silence, both of them thinking their own thoughts.

Vlad started foraging in his breast pocket after a bit (he was wearing a suit) and brought out a folded piece of paper. "This has all of my telephone numbers, Samantha. I know you don't like me, and don't trust me and so on and so forth, but you may _need_ me at some point. I am a halfa, and can help with Nathaniel should he turn ghost. I also have ghost locaters, and can build other things to make your life a little easier. Don't hesitate to call if you need something, even money." He leaned over and put the paper down on the table next to the folded playpen.

They locked eyes as he leaned back again, and had a brief battle of the wills. _I know what you're after, you fake. You want Nathaniel._ But she knew arguing and accusing wouldn't lead anywhere, and looked away, letting out a tiny sigh.

Vlad stood up. "Well, Samantha, it's been a pleasure speaking with you. And again, if you need my help, call me. If the Wisconsin number doesn't work, try the other locations, and my cell as a last resort. I prefer avoiding cell phones since assuring privacy is practically impossible. I also must ask that you never call me Plasmius, or mention ghosts directly over any phone. But then, I'm certain you understand how valuable one's privacy is." Vlad paused, and laid his hand lightly on her shoulder. Sam looked up at him as he did so, dragging her gaze away from the table, and that seemed to be what he wanted.

"I can't make you trust me, Samantha, but I am a valuable resource to you, and you should think of me as such. Don't put yourself through unnecessary hardship if it can be easily avoided. That is all I ask." _I wish._ He dropped his hand, and glanced down at Nathaniel one more time, smiling a little. Then he straightened up, growing serious, and seemed to concentrate on something. A frown passed over his features.

"Not yet two hours, I see. Ah well. The front door will suffice." He turned and began the short walk across the living room, moving briskly.

Sam stood slowly as he went, watching and wondering if there was anything she should say or ask before he left, but her mind was growing muddled once again.

Vlad paused with his hand on the door knob, and turned back to face her. "Good bye, Samantha."

"Bye, Vlad." He was out the door a moment later. Her mind felt slightly numb, and she realized the adrenaline rush had left her a while ago. She'd probably crash in a few more minutes, if Nathaniel gave her the chance.

She had a lot to think about, but was too brain dead at present to really do so. Also, Vlad had just left, and that made her feel much safer even if it was completely unwarranted. At least she didn't feel like she was being watched at the moment. But still, a whole new worry had just been added to her list, and it was one of the biggest and most dangerous of them all.

And the jerk still called her Samantha, the…jerk. She shuffled her way towards the bed, half asleep already. She still wasn't sure she was going to use that playpen either. She probably couldn't throw it very far, which was a…bad sign, for some reason…

Sam was out like a light only moments after settling down on her bed. Before dropping completely asleep, however, she knew that in less than twenty minutes, Nathaniel would wake her with a dirty diaper. He was predictable like that.

* * *

**Author's Note Number Two: Woohoo, two of my favorite characters interacting! Anyway, let me know if you think things are out of character, or what have you. And just a warning, things are about to get a tad bumpy for Sam (as if I haven't been mean enough already!)**


	11. The Past Future

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Author's Note: Sorry for the longish wait; 'tis explained at the bottom. Anyway...yeesh, you people without accounts are killin' me, killin' me! lol...some of you have written some very nice reviews to me, but I can't respond, so...**

**Thanks JJ - really appreciate your comment on my creativity! (bubbles with happiness)**

**Cardinal - You're onto something, lol...really onto something. I hope you'll keep reading to see where I take this. Methinks you'll like it!**

**rANDOM rEVIEWER - The other ghosts? I hadn't thought of that, really, though now I'll take it into consideration. However, I can honestly say that those sorts of issues won't really arise much in this story. Thanks for you comment on in characterness! Let me know if I keep it up! Or if I don't ...**

**Cassie - I'm really glad you did comment. Your review is one of the most original I've got. I love your analogies- a night at home with pasta and the X-Files is _extremely _flattering. And I may have to steal your comments for my story description. :) **

**Chapter 11: The Past Future**

* * *

October 15th

He was starting to feel like a true ghost. At least, the sort of ghost _most_ people thought of when the word came to mind. Incorporeal, invisible, just leaving a hint of coolness wherever he floated. He was incapable of communicating in a meaningful way with the living world, trapped between one reality and the next.

The next reality, of course, being the Fenton thermos, or something like it. And although this ghostlike state (how ironic) of silent separation had been forced at first, over time he began thinking of it as his own choice. He needed this time to think, calm down, and work through his past. Somehow Clockwork had known that.

Danny was currently floating in the human world, apparently somewhere in London, looking for a way back into the ghost zone. The strongest ghosts could find a weak place between the two dimensions when they felt like it, and with a little patience could stretch that spot enough to get through. It would spring back afterwards, however, which was why Danny had to search for it again on this side.

He'd come over looking for the date and time, and had found it at a small newspaper stand only a few hundred yards away, luckily. It was the 15th of October, which meant he'd been living like this for…nearly _ten_ months.

_There it is._ He could feel the weakness a few feet above where he'd been looking; a tingling suggestion of ghostly energy.

Both worlds had a different flavor to them. The ghost zone had an icy energy that made the tips of his fingers tingle slightly, while the human world was warm like the sun, and had a feeling of movement to it the ghost zone didn't possess. It had the energy of hundreds of millions living, breathing people in it, after all.

A moment of concentration later and Danny had created a tiny opening, using energy carefully focused in his fingers. Another moment and he'd wisped through in his smokiest of forms, to the silent depths of the ghost zone.

So…two more months, and it would be a year of solitude. Did it feel that long? The first few months had been so hard, with his emotions going back and forth wildly, like an out of control pendulum.

Anger, remorse, depression, guilt and self loathing. It had been hard to hold it in, though on some level he'd been disgusted at himself for wanting to destroy mindlessly once again. But that had been his escape for _years_, and it wasn't something he could've given up overnight, not if he hadn't been forced to as he was.

After that initial period of instability he'd calmed down enough to really think, just as he had previously within the confines of the thermos. The violent urges had bottomed out, and unlike before, he'd had something to immediately focus on; the guilt he'd been feeling about Sam. At that point, he'd finally given in and followed Clockwork's advice. He'd analyzed his feelings, his past, and himself.

It had slowly paid off. Over the past months, he'd finally broken out of the cycle of emotional upheaval followed by mindless destruction. It was _painful_ finally confronting the emotions he'd been repressing for so long through that violence, but truly…the moment he'd realized he wanted Sam, the moment he'd acknowledged that he was jealous of his past self for having all that he had lost, an irreversible change had taken place within him.

Danny wanted his family and friends! He wanted to laugh with them again, feel happy at their presence. He wanted to create and _build_ relationships, not destroy them.

There were other things that came back to him as well. Hadn't he wanted to be an astronaut, long ago? And hadn't he considered it his duty to protect the people who couldn't protect themselves? These things used to mean a lot to him, and now that he was thinking about them again, he realized the desire and hope was still there, just buried deep down.

Danny drifted, a tiny smile on his face, as he thought of all the things he could do; all the good he _needed_ to do to make up for his actions, even if that had been another time, another reality. He knew what he had done, and that was all that really mattered.

And of course there was Sam, who he loved. Who he didn't _deserve_ to love, but there it was. He couldn't, and wouldn't try to change how he felt about her. It was so freeing, admitting that to himself. He was _in love_ with Sam.

It was a deep sort of love. Even though he wanted a lot - to be with her, to see her smile, experience her laugh, to hold her close - when it came down to it, Sam's _happiness _came first, and if staying away made her happy, he'd do it, though it would be hard for him if that was her decision.

Besides, he knew he didn't have an icicle's chance in hell of ever having a relationship with her (and that he didn't deserve one) after what he'd done, though he did carry the hope that maybe she'd find it in her heart to at least forgive him.

Actually, Danny had been thinking of ways to make things up to her as best he could, and was becoming eager to put his plans into action. He also wanted look in on his family and Tucker, but was still making himself stay away. He didn't want to risk being detected by them, and he also wasn't completely sure he could hold back from revealing himself when in their presence.

Danny absently ran his hands through his hair, playing with the flame; it was a habit he'd developed over the years whenever he was bored or fidgety. How much longer _would_ it be before he proved himself to Clockwork? He tried not to think about it, but now that nearly a year had gone by…what length of time _would_ the Master of Time deem appropriately long for Danny's test, anyway? A year, two years? Maybe…a lifetime? What a horrible thought! Would Clockwork choose to wait until all of Danny's family and friends had lived their lives?

He didn't think he could stand that! But it had been over ten months already, and it would be such a good punishment. And besides, Clockwork was effectively immortal; it was hardly a wait for _him_…

Danny crossed his arms, brow furrowed in fear, and tried, but failed, to focus on something else. If he had to wait that long…_no_! He couldn't _do_ it! He would end up breaking the deal, and be trapped forever…

"A penny for your thoughts." _N…agh!_ Danny started violently, and turned invisible in an instant. _No!_ This place was _deserted_, how had someone snuck up on him…? He turned frantically around, but couldn't see anyone.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and someone chuckled in his ear. "Hello, Danny." Only then did his ghost sense go off, and he looked over his shoulder to see Clockwork floating there. He looked about ten years old, right about the age when some boys become real twerps…

"What _are_ you, crazy? You nearly made me jump out of my _skin_ just then!" Danny moved back a little, regaining his personal space, and immediately wished he could take the words back. This was _Clockwork_ he was talking to! He couldn't stop himself from coughing a little, however. He hadn't used his voice in months.

Clockwork chuckled again and shifted into an older form, perhaps mid thirties. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. I won't do it again." He paused, still smiling a little. "Have you been thinking things over?"

Danny crossed his arms, eyebrows raised. "What _else_ was I supposed to do?" Apparently Clockwork had been _hoping_ to get a rise out of him a moment ago, so no harm done…the jerk.

Clockwork responded. "Wreck havoc; go on a mindless rampage; blow up Amity Par…"

"Get thrown away for good, to slowly rot and go crazy over the years, trapped inside my own ghostly body…? Yeah…_no_ thank you." They locked eyes for a moment, a strange confirmation of their mutual places in the universe passing between them. _Feh_. _I'm _not_ going to challenge you, Clockwork. I've learned my lesson._

Then Danny went on, and it was like the moment had never happened. "To answer your question, I was wondering how much longer you planned on making me _wait_." He smirked, thinking about how ironic his train of thoughts had been. He should've known Clockwork's timing would be perfect.

Clockwork didn't answer immediately, a half smile still playing on his lips. "I never said this would be easy. Waiting seldom is." Danny studied the other ghost for a moment. His expression was so hard to read; you could never tell what he wanted, or expected. But then, the Time Master already _knew_ what would happen, didn't he? So it made sense he'd have developed the ultimate poker face.

He seemed to be waiting for Danny to say something, though. And Danny hadn't spent the last ten months twiddling his thumbs. He had questions, ones he thought the Time Master might know. But now that Clockwork was here, it was hard to know where to begin.

Something did come to him, however, and it was out of his mouth in an instant. "How's Sam doing? Is she alright?"

Clockwork pursed his lips a little. "That wasn't what you were going to ask me." This was true; she hadn't technically been on his list of ground breaking questions. But still. "Don't worry about her; she's doing alright. Sometime soon you'll be able to see for yourself."

Danny looked down, thinking. Alright, time to dig into the tough questions.

He went for the most terrifying one first. "I…have a soul." He paused. It wasn't quite a question, but…

"Yes. You have a soul." _Phew_. He'd _thought_ so, he just needed to make sure.

"Right. But whose soul _is_ it, exactly?" This was a little…okay, a _lot_ more tricky. He waited for the Time Master to answer, but when he stayed silent, Danny went on to clarify exactly what he meant.

"Can a soul be split, or…merged with another soul? Do I actually have _half_ a soul, since my human half is dead? Or am I sharing part of Vlad's soul?" Both of these possibilities were disturbing to him somehow, though he couldn't pinpoint why.

Clockwork smiled, finally responding. "No to both. The nature of the soul is understood by few people, Danny. It is, in essence, your true self. It has no form, no substance. It cannot be destroyed, or changed, or torn in half. That doesn't mean it isn't flexible; it _can_ be shared between bodies, for instance. But in these cases, the soul is manifesting different qualities of the same self, and ultimately those two individuals are one and the same." He paused, and gave Danny a long searching look. "Would you like me to tell you what happened that day, Danny?"

He nodded silently, having already been given a lot to think about, and his eyes were glued to Clockwork as he continued.

"Your ghost and human halves were split. It was…a painful experience?"

"Yes. Very. It felt like I was on fire for a moment."

"No doubt you were very disoriented, and your brain felt somewhat addled?"

Danny frowned slightly. "Yes. I felt angrier than I ever had before. I remember I needed to do something, fast. And…I wanted revenge on Vlad. I knew he was responsible for what just happened. It wasn't…what I expected at _all_."

"So you repeated the procedure on him, separating his ghost and human halves. But then it occurred to you that you'd have to fight Plasmius, didn't it? So you overshadowed him."

Danny had thought through this memory so many times over the months, it was almost felt like he'd practiced for this conversation. "It was the only way to…_win_. And he was so disoriented, I knew I could overpower him, at least for a while." Danny looked away, remembering that rash action, and the pain that had followed. Being split apart had been _fun_ compared to that…

"You have no idea what truly happened, I know, but…one ghost doesn't simply overshadow another, Danny. Only humans can be overshadowed."

Danny met his eyes briefly in understanding. "Thus the merge." Danny's brow furrowed as he thought about what Clockwork had said a moment ago. "But…you said a soul can't be changed, so our _souls_ didn't merge, did they?"

"No. You kicked Vlad out, Danny. Essentially, you killed him, in that you forced his soul from his ghostly body, though it did have his human body to return to. That's partly why it was so painful. For a moment you were struggling for your life. If you had lost, _you_ would've been 'killed'."

There was a suggestion of something more in Clockwork's tone, and suddenly things started falling into place in Danny's mind. "You said a soul can be shared between multiple bodies, so when I split, part of my soul was in…"

"No; your soul was _simultaneously_ in both your human body and your ghost body. It wasn't split between the two. The soul can't be split. I know it's difficult to grasp, but there is a difference**." **He paused. "Continue."

Danny went on. "So what you're saying is after I kicked Vlad out of his ghost form, all of his soul went to his human body, and after I…when I killed my human self, all of my soul returned to my gh...me." He paused. That sentence just sounded _bizarre_. He let out a long breath of air, brushing off the feeling of weirdness, and crossed his arms. "So I'm me, and Vlad's Vlad, essentially."

Clockwork nodded slowly. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Yes, except…things aren't _quite_ that simple, are they?"

No. They never were. He knew exactly what Clockwork was getting at. He wasn't the same person he'd been before that day. Things had changed fast, and substantially so.

Danny vocalized his thoughts. This was something else he'd mulled over during the long months, so he didn't have to search long for the right words.

"Clockwork, I…changed a _lot_ in those few minutes. I went from clinically depressed to _angry_. _Really_ angry. And it was like I was running on pure adrenaline, but with a leg cut off. I had to keep _moving_ and _attacking_. I was in pain, but it wasn't…_acknowledged_. And later on, when I was more in my right mind…relatively speaking…I didn't have the same tendencies. Violence was practically a way of life; the "softer emotions", so to speak, hardly bothered me for long periods of time. And I think I must've gotten some of Vlad's habits, because I became more…manipulative." Danny smirked. "Occasionally I'd think ahead, before rushing in with fists flaring. Not often, though." He frowned. "And I was so angry. I was never _not_ angry. It was just…different levels of that same emotion, always overshadowing everything." Danny stopped. Everything had been so out of _control_. Out of _his own_ control.

As was his habit, Clockwork let the silence sit for a moment before responding. "What do you know about human psychology, Danny? The human mind? And how do you think a human body differs from the ghost body?"

Danny looked up into the endless green, thinking about it. "Well, I know some people think the ghost body is a representation of the soul, but that's obviously not right. Actually, I _knew_ that was wrong ever since I got ghost powers. It's just a different kind of body, really."

"True. Ectoplasm is no more the substance of the soul than human blood is." Clockwork paused, eyes narrowed, and for a moment Danny was reminded of Mr. Lancer about to start a lecture. He had a feeling he wasn't far off.

"Every human has the potential to become a ghost, but that body is merely a reflection of their human one, albeit made from different, substantially more durable material." Clockwork paused at Danny's raised eyebrows. "Could your human body withstand the sort of beating your ghostly one could, Danny? It's also more versatile. You can focus energy into your palms, change your appearance with concentration, and change your body's level of corporeality."

Danny smirked. "True; I guess it's just the stereotype I'm thinking of."

Clockwork went on. "Unlike the human body, however, the ghost is very strongly linked to a person's needs and wants. Therefore, if there isn't something powerful holding a person to their body, even after the flesh and blood form has ceased to function, their soul will simply move on. It's no accident that the ghost zone is practically empty in comparison to the human world. Few people are so attached as to cling onto their ghostly bodies in favor of moving on."

Danny frowned. "So…you're saying I'm extremely attached?"

"Yes, and no. Your case is unique in that you had years to grow accustomed to a ghostly body, and were in full control of it when your human half died." The obvious fact that he'd been using his ghostly body to _kill off_ his human half went unspoken. "Also, you're much more powerful than most ghosts, due to the unnatural magnification of your ghostly half through exposure to the Fenton portal. Your ghost body was made as natural for you to use as your human body, despite the fact that you were _still alive_. This kind of thing has only happened to one other living human."

"Vlad Masters." They were silent for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts.

Clockwork went on. "Many people might spend a few moments in their ghostly body, or even a few days, before moving on. Most, however, are never aware they had a ghostly body waiting for them, and leave both bodies simultaneously. A few remain, however. Unfortunately, the longer a person maintains their ghostly existence, the more difficult it becomes for them to let go. Eventually, they become as strongly attached to it as a human body. At that point, only resolving their "unfinished business" will allow them to move on, unless they are forcefully evicted, as you did with Vlad."

Danny felt an icy fear move through him. There had to be a reason Clockwork was telling him this, right? He spoke up, his voice coming out tense. "So…is that what I'm supposed to do, then? Resolve things, and move on?" This _wasn't_ what he wanted.

Danny looked off, continuing to think. Of course, maybe after years and years, he _would_ finally let go? After everyone he knew had passed on? This thought made him feel deeply sad, and he pushed it away. He didn't want to float around, just observing. He wanted to live, and be a part of things, even if he _was_ a ghost. He didn't _feel_ dead!

Clockwork didn't answer immediately, instead watching Danny as he jumped through several different emotions. Discontent, sadness, pain, and a little anger and desperation. "Danny, your path isn't that of the typical ghost's, because you _aren't_ a typical ghost, as I've just stated. I'm giving you a chance to live in the human world if you so choose."

"As a human?"

Clockwork nodded. "Why not? Several powerful ghosts do just that, since they are strong enough to disguise themselves as human."

Well, to some extent. But when you slept, you'd revert, so you could never have a truly normal life. Danny found himself wishing for more than this, even as Clockwork attempted to put aside his worries.

Clockwork went on, apparently not quite finished with the lecture. "You are also unusual in that you have your…_youth_, in a manner of speaking. Other ghosts, starting with a very weak ghostly form at the moment of death, take years to develop any real strength, so the ghosts who begin to compare to you in terms of powers are hundreds of years old, sometimes thousands." He smirked, and added, "There is a _reason_ the Observers placed you under my personal care."

He wasn't following why this was important. "So I'm a young, sprightly ghost instead of an old geezer. Why does this matter?"

"You aren't out of touch with the human world. During the years of development, most ghosts are either confined to a particular haunt in the human world, or the ghost zone. Should they choose to enter the human world disguised as a human after they've gained enough power to do so, they are inevitably greeted with a foreign culture and people. Whatever they knew is usually outdated by a hundred years or more. You, however, will be right at home, and even have friends and family."

"I…see." Danny couldn't quite keep the twinkle out of his eyes. _Well_. Clockwork wasn't warning him off of his friends and family. In fact, he seemed to be doing just the opposite. This was a good thing…

The Time Master went on after a moment. "There _is_ a reason I'm talking about the nature of the ghostly body, Danny. Understanding why your temperament changed so suddenly that day lies in understanding the nature of your human and ghost bodies and minds." Clockwork paused. "Your ghost and human halves were split. Then you merged with Vlad's ghost half."

Danny waited, knowing another explanation was on the way. What had happened then? He'd pushed out Vlad's soul, but what about the ghost body itself? What had he taken from it, besides the raw power?

Clockwork went on. "Even before the merge with Vlad's ghost, your were already a changed person, Danny."

Danny blinked. _Had_ he been? Only a few moments had passed before his merge with Vlad, so the memory was blurry at best. As such, he hadn't spent much time thinking about it, other than acknowledging that he'd been in pain, and had immediately acted out against the person he saw as causing that pain. But his _human_ half hadn't reacted that way at all, had it?

"The tendencies you associated more strongly with each form were pulled _with _that form when you were split apart, Danny. Think on what you did and thought in both forms, and that will give you an idea of what was different between the two. Essentially, however, the ghost half was harsher, and more violent. It was all action, and had a strong sense of justice, though that was quickly twisted into vengeance. Your human half had a higher concentration of the softer emotions; the depression was still strongly present, but also his tendency towards love and compassion was much more developed, though it didn't have time to be expressed."

They were both silent for a moment, as Danny thought over what Clockwork had just said. This gave clarity to those few moments. And it partly explained his transformation. He'd felt less sadness, and more anger for a perfectly logical reason. When had he _ever _felt sad in his ghost form, back when he'd still been half human? He'd felt worried, tense, angry, it was true. But sadness had mostly been reserved for his human half.

Clockwork went on, apparently deciding Danny could mull later. "Then there was the merge with Vlad. As you may have noticed, some things came more naturally to you after that merge, such as your ability to split your form. However, you don't possess Vlad's memories. Correct me if I'm wrong?"

Danny blinked. That would've been…incredibly weird. "No. If I did, I probably would've developed split personalities by now." He shuddered. "He _was_ obsessed with my Mom, after all." Gross.

"Yet you _did_ take on some of his physical characteristics. Because you were the possessor, instead of the possessed, your personality, memories, and physical characteristics are dominant. If you observe, you are identical to your present self, except in what you might call the purely "ghostly" characteristics. Humans don't have fangs, pointed ears, or blue skin, and so in these superficial ways, Vlad's influence made itself known. And the merge boosted your power, of course."

"So my body isn't a strict split down the middle? I'm mostly my original ghost form?" He narrowed his eyes, trying to make this make sense.

"Yes. You dominated that merge in every way. Your body, mind, and soul took control, and this is reflected in your physical form. If Vlad had dominated, his body might've taken on your skin tone and hair color, perhaps. Something like that. But overall he would've looked and acted like Vlad Plasmius."

"I see. But, I _do_ have some of his mental characteristics, don't I? I'm a little more inclined toward trickery than I was before, and I…hesitate a little more before jumping into things than I used to."

Danny's brow furrowed as something else occurred to him, his mind circling around the muddled memories surrounding the merge. "And…it was Vlad's influence, in part, that led to me killing my human half, _wasn't _it? For those few short moments, _his_ ghost wanted revenge, just like I'd wanted revenge on him for tearing out _my_ ghost…but it was almost like an echo of what he _would've_ felt if he'd won control during the merge, temporarily _imposed_ on me. And I obviously wouldn't attack myself, so…I attacked my…self." He shuddered, and tried to stop the macabre scene from playing in front of his mind's eye.

He shook his head to clear it, and looked up at Clockwork. "I never really completely understood why I did that. Why I killed my other self. It was…," his eyes narrowed, "animalistic." He was pretty sure that was the most out of control, the _lowest,_ he'd ever been.

Danny turned to the side, looking into the distance, and as he continued speaking he felt like he was letting out one of his darkest secrets. He _was, _actually, but the words needed to be said. To someone. Sometime.

"I had nightmares about it for years afterwards. It was one of the few things that I…couldn't successfully suppress. That experience was…that was the second worst experience of my _life_." _The first was losing everyone I cared about. _

Danny laughed, a single bark, and looked up at the sky. His speaking voice was suddenly harsh, and filled with a subtle anguish. "I'd never killed anyone before that, you know. I never thought I would! And…," he laughed again, a horrible sound. "And the first person I killed was _me_! How likely is _that_, huh Clockwork? And after that, everything just went…_dooown the draaain_." It was as though a deep wound had reopened, and the blood was oozing out through his words.

"It was so _fast_ in real life, just an ecto-blast. He was…," a crazy smile plastered itself onto his face, the smile of a man in a great deal of pain, "...only _human_. But in my nightmares it was so_ slow_. He would come back, and it didn't matter how dead he _should've_ been…," Danny shuddered at the memories. His other self would talk to him. His other corpse-like self.

Clockwork had to think he was crazy by now, but he couldn't stop the words. And if he didn't keep smiling this crazy smile, he'd start crying and he'd never stop. "And when I was awake, sometimes I used to think I saw my human self, and I'd just start _blowing_ things _up_…starting with the place _he'd_ been. It was so much worse, thinking he wasn't dead, just _half_ dead…it's _crazy_, I _know_…"

He let out something between a bark and a sigh, and ran his hands through his hair, still looking up at the sky. He needed to stop talking before Clockwork decided this was all a big mistake and it was time to go back in the thermos after all and that he was a freakish soulless monster and that there were too many things wrong with him that would _never_ be _right again_...!

Danny laughed his miserable bark, and covered his face with his hands, rubbing it, and tried to calm himself. He wasn't going to _cry_ in front of this guy. The only good thing about feeling so miserable, was that he _finally_ didn't feel the urge to destroy, to _attack_. After all these years, finally, _finally_, he was no longer ruled by his anger!

If only he could've broken out of it sooner, if only someone had stopped him before he'd destroyed his innocence a hundred times over, and been the cause of so much pain and suffering. He hadn't even been in _control_ of himself! For a moment Danny thought he _would_ cry.

A calm voice broke through his inner turmoil, and after a moment Danny slowly lowered his hands, looking down at them. "You were not in your right mind, Danny. Your mind was like a shattered glass for those few minutes, and all the different fragments were pulling at you simultaneously. Your mind was _literally_ reforming itself. Tragically, that act was what completed your transformation into the person you became." Danny's gaze went to the swirling depths below his feet. It was childish not to meet Clockwork's eyes, but he felt bloody and exposed, raw and defeated by his own past.

Clockwork went on, ignoring Danny's emotional state. "Unfortunately, when you split from your human half, your softer emotions were already dampened considerably. When you joined with Vlad's ghost, who had a similar dichotomy of habits, your negative tendencies were only strengthened _further_, Danny. And for a few minutes, you were acting purely instinctively." Clockwork's voice was deadpan; no anger, no disgust. Instead it was just a steady, somber flow, and Danny had to thank him for that.

He went on, an added note of seriousness pushing through, and Danny found himself finally tuning back in completely, his emotions slowly settling back down. "But by now you should've realized that _any_ time you lose your temper, _any_ time you become angry, you suffer a loss of control over your actions, and that loss only enhances bad habits that right now, you are _far_ from eradicating. Remaining calm, and thus in control of yourself, should _always_ be on your mind. Situations that incite anger should be avoided, and habits should be built that require and encourage a calm state of mind. Like the alcoholic that must avoid even a drop of liquor, _you_ must avoid violence, and anger. This is essential for your happiness, Danny."

Two pairs of red eyes met and held for a few moments, and once again an acknowledgement of something, some _truth_, seemed to pass between them.

Danny finally looked away. "Actually, I think I already _knew_ that. Out with the old, in with the new." He let out a long, slow sigh, and it was a few moments before he spoke again. _Okay, you've had your little emotional interlude. Time to buck up._ And strangely, the previous out poring _did_ seem to have got something out of system, because he felt a little lighter now, almost like he'd emptied out all the emotional baggage, at least temporarily.

And he actually turned around and gave Clockwork a genuine smile. "In fact, I've already been making some plans." _And some promises._ He paused, the smile slowly falling away. "Does this conversation mean I have my freedom now? I can show myself, and 'effect the time stream'?"

Clockwork remained silent for a moment, a look in his eyes that had always struck Danny as slightly malevolent. Danny narrowed his eyes at him, a suspicion rising fast.

Danny rolled his eyes after a moment and put his hands behind his head, feeling frustrated. "Aww, it _doesn't,_ does it? I _know_ that look. You don't want to answer because I'm not going to like what you have to say, right?"

At least the Time Master didn't smirk, and had the grace to look somewhat sorry for him. "_Soon_, Danny, very soon. Just be a little more patient. Think over what I've told you; I've given you a _lot_ to reflect on. It won't be as long a wait this time, I promise. And afterwards, you will truly be free to do as you please. I'll even help you for a little while." He paused, then added, "Here's one more word of wisdom for you to ponder over, Danny. Time and space don't apply to a soul as they do to material things." And with those words Clockwork gave him a smile, and raised his staff. "I'll be seeing you…later." In the blink of an eye he was gone, and Danny was once again alone with his thoughts in the silent depths of the ghost zone.

* * *

Wisconsin, October 19th

It had taken four more grueling days, but she'd finally given in and started using the playpen, the stubborn girl. Vlad sighed and leaned back in satisfaction. He was sitting at his lab computer doing research and keeping an eye on Samantha at the same time. The smell of Earl Grey tea lingered in the air.

Samantha. She was such a strong person…he couldn't help but admire her. And she'd seen right through him, too.

He sighed, watching her as she slept. Nathaniel, who was also out like a light, lay in the pen nearby. Watching her steady breathing was calming to him somehow, and helped him to think. And it was also a triumph. She was finally _using_ the damn thing! Lately he'd spent more than his fair share of time down here in the lab, just waiting for this moment.

Not that Vlad hadn't kept busy. He'd spent a lot of time mulling over what he'd learned from their little encounter. She'd known more about Double D (now dubbed Dark Daniel) than she'd told him. She'd also left out how he got here, and how she knew he was from the future in the first place, although he could connect more dots than perhaps she supposed.

The glitch in the video was an obvious clue. He'd never seen that sort of malfunction before, and after listening to Samantha he knew why.

There was nothing wrong. Time had _actually_ stood still, at least for that video camera. Clearly, Daniel and his doppelganger had finished their confrontation outside of the fourth dimension.

It was an amazing, _intriguing_ concept, and he'd immediately started doing research on the subject. Research aside, however, he was already certain of a few things Samantha had left out of her explanation that had to be true, simply through the logic of deduction.

Firstly, the future she had mentioned was not, in fact, _their_ future. It had to be an alternate timeline, or perhaps, if there was only one timeline at any given time, it simply no longer existed. Either way, it was obvious that the present Daniel was not going to turn into the Dark Daniel who attacked Samantha. Daniel and his friends would hardly be carrying on their lives as they were if they'd met this person and still thought this could come about.

No; they'd probably be running around like a bunch of chickens with their _heads_ cut off. Vlad smirked to himself at the thought.

Instead, the only crisis in Daniel's life was his best friend gone missing, so that settled it in his mind. Dark Daniel was from an alternate reality, from some undefined point in the future, though he doubted it was a thousand years, as Samantha had suggested. Actually, he suspected she knew and had pretended ignorance.

Ah well. He _liked_ a good puzzle. And the next piece lay in finding out whether Dark Daniel had transported himself here somehow, or whether someone else had done it for him. Or perhaps…_to_ him. There was no reason to assume he'd come here voluntarily.

Vlad was inclined towards the latter; that someone else had brought him here. Just before the glitch in the video, he'd looked over Dark Daniel carefully for any sign of a time travel device, watching for a motion, a sound, _anything_ he might've done to trigger a stop in time. There was both no visible evidence of such a device, and Dark Daniel hadn't _done_ anything out of the ordinary either.

It was fairly clear, then, that someone _else_ had stopped the fight. (On a side note, he was almost positive they hadn't fought. If they _had_, Daniel would've mentioned it to his friends. An _almost_ fight he could deal with on his own, but an out and out battle with his future self would've been too much for the boy to keep to himself.)

So between checking on Samantha and Nathaniel, Vlad had been doing research on this mysterious third person. Were they from the future? He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Dark Daniel for months, so perhaps they could've returned to that alternate future?

This didn't seem to fly, however. For one, if whatever had caused that alternate future had been prevented in the here and now, Dark Daniel and this stranger would have no place to return _to_. At least not a future that had room in it for them.

This suggested that this mysterious other person was probably not from the future. This person had obviously saved Daniel's bacon more than once from his stronger, more experienced future self. Yet if they had the present time to look over like a history book from their perspective in the future, why allow Daniel to come in contact with his future self in the first place? And the boy's reaction to Dark Daniel had been so strong that Vlad _knew_ something had happened earlier, presumably out of time, between the two.

Why allow this to happen, if you were from the future? He didn't pretend to understand the nuances of time travel, but it didn't add up somehow. Why allow the changes they did? The attack on Samantha, for instance, was an irrevocable change in this reality. A new human being had been created out of it, after all.

The motives of this time traveler were vague at best. They seemed interested in protecting Daniel, but his friends were fair game, apparently. And Vlad couldn't help thinking there was something deeper going on here, though he couldn't begin to fathom what. As such, that line of thought had to be put on hold until further data presented itself.

There were other things to contemplate, such as the _method_ of time travel. Who was to say it was future technology, for instance? Why not a ghost power of some sort? Many ghosts developed a very specialized power, such as Desiree, who could grant wishes, or Technus, who had control over electronic and mechanical things. Even the Box Ghost had control over, well…boxes.

Perhaps there was a ghost, presumably very powerful, who could control the fourth dimension to some extent? And for whatever reason, they had a connection to Daniel and his evil counterpart.

In any case, _this_ was what Vlad had been primarily researching. If this third person was a ghost with power over time, he could search for him in the ghost zone (which he'd sent Skulker to do) and research ghostly phenomenon that mentioned anomalies in time. He had books and books on ghosts and ghost history, but had never before thought to look through them for signs of a ghost with power over time. With this new focus, he was certain he'd find something, if this ghost existed.

This would be pointless, of course, if it _was_ someone from the future who was using very advanced technology. But there was no way to research things that hadn't been built yet, or people who didn't exist yet, so he wasn't going to bother trying.

Besides, he had a _feeling_ this was a ghost's work. It was all too…_quirky_ to be part of the machinations of a normal human being, since clearly this person was manipulating Dark Daniel as they pleased, allowing him to encounter Daniel, then drawing him away again. Allowing him to attack Samantha.

Vlad sighed and looked over at her sleeping form. What were their motives? Why allow this to happen? His eyes wandered toward the pen. He didn't have competition for the child, did h…!

Vlad sat up suddenly, his previous train of thought practically forgotten. The child was…Nathaniel had _transforme_d! And Samantha was sleeping through it! Did this mean he was the first to see it like this, since he was almost certain it hadn't transformed as of yet…

The baby was a very pale blue, much lighter than its father. Vlad zoomed the camera in, eager to get a closer look. _Ah_. He'd thought so. His ears were pointed as well. There was no way to tell about the eyes, since he was sleeping, and his teeth weren't in yet, so whether he'd have fangs was anybody's guess.

Still, it was somehow amazing, finally seeing the proof of the parentage with his own eyes. Even after all these years of being a halfa and being around ghosts, the sight of this _particular_ ghost child was…utterly captivating.

Well. Vlad actually _did_ have proof of the parentage through the DNA tests he'd run a few weeks ago, but seeing the child transform still felt like the ultimate confirmation of its halfa nature.

Vlad leaned slowly back again, eyes never leaving Nathaniel's ghostly form. Actually, the results from the DNA test had been rather intriguing, and Vlad found himself thinking back over them again.

He'd run the tests right here in his lab, using samples from Daniel, Samantha, and the baby. Samantha, as he'd expected, matched Nathaniel fifty percent. Daniel, however, only matched _forty-five_ percent, making him _almost_ the father (which was technically a scientific impossibility). It leant credence to the theory that Dark Daniel had indeed merged with lesser ghosts over time, thus altering his DNA and appearance.

This illustrated why Vlad had never thought to gain power that way, even though he'd known for years that this was a method often used by the more powerful ghosts. He'd get a boost of strength equal to that of the lesser ghost, but he'd also be getting echoes of their physical form and, possibly, of their personality as well. There were some places he wasn't willing to go; some things he wasn't going to give up. His own body and mind, exactly as they were now, were two of them.

Vlad wondered about how many of the events leading to the creation of Dark Daniel Samantha really knew about. How had his ghost and human halves been ripped apart, exactly? And why had Daniel's ghost half, under _any_ circumstances, _killed_ his human half? And had it been cold blooded murder, or some tragic accident? Something must've been horribly wrong.

Although, Vlad did wonder if Samantha had been entirely truthful about what she had told him. It just…wasn't something Daniel would _do_! Yet even in the video Dark Daniel had said he'd already killed Daniel, though Samantha could've twisted what he'd said somehow, taken it out of context.

Vlad blinked as Nathaniel transformed back, and one again his previous thoughts fell by the wayside. It wasn't as though asking those questions could lead anywhere at the moment anyway, and Nathaniel's transformation was much more interesting (and less disturbing). Vlad hadn't been focusing a moment ago, but there had definitely been a flash of light…

He began extracting the last several minutes of video file into a separate folder on his computer. He'd missed the first transformation entirely, and wanted to go over both several times. A particularly important question Vlad intended to answer through studying Nathaniel was what differences, if any, there were between a naturally born halfa and an artificially created one (such as himself and Daniel), and an obvious thing to compare would be the transformation.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Hee, hee. I'm sorry this took so long! I had to re-write it when it turned into a twenty page discourse given by Clockwork. But now I have stuff organized in my head better for later chapters, and a few things already written up too. Let's just say I originally had waaaay to much information stuffed into this one chapter. So anyway…Please review! I'd love to hear what you think:)

Other little tidbits…Can you say Technus 2.0? Why _did_ his physical appearance change, exactly? A possible explanation is that he absorbed a few weaker (and better looking) ghosts. :P Just a thought. Also, this doesn't come out in the chapter, but another reason Vlad isn't willing to attempt a merge is because he's a halfa. Because of his human body, a merge might not even be possible- and he has no basis for comparison. He _could_ just end up getting possessed. (Not likely though.)

One more thing that didn't get covered in the chapter. (Actually, there are lot's of things, but that's neither here nor there.) Dark Danny mentions sleeping- as a ghost this is a very different thing; they don't need nearly as much. But they _do_ sleep, and when they do they revert to their natural form- unless the sleep is extremely shallow.

Okay! Thank yea! Come again! I hope you liked the noodles! (behehehehe…smfortle)


	12. Nightmares

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

_Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay! Fanfiction . net wouldn't let me upload. I actually had this finished last Tuesday! Also, I was going to shout out reviewers again, but I'll wait till next time. I'm just happy the dern thing uploaded!_**  
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* * *

**Chapter 12: Nightmares**

**October 26th**

Sam stood at the kitchen sink rinsing some turnips to cook. She wasn't sure why she'd even got them; it was one of the few vegetables she didn't like. Maybe they had some…vitamin she needed?

_It's hot in here!_ Her head felt woozy from the warmth. A trickle of sweat ran down her temple, and she brushed it aside absently, staring down at the turnips. _Why_ had she…bought these, again?

"_Waaaaaaaaaa!_" Darn. Nathaniel was awake, and probably hungry. Sam moved to dry her hands, the sound of his crying a constant.

Then something in his voice changed. He was suddenly screaming as if in pain or panic, and without thinking Sam was running toward the bedroom. _Something was __wrong!_

But a moment later the screaming stopped as abruptly as it had started, leaving the room strangely quiet, and a sickening terror shot up Sam's spine. She took the last few steps to the doorway, afraid of what she might see…

The room was dark; only a tiny night light next to the bathroom door gave any light. But it was enough to see his rustling cape, to recognize his build and height, and his flaming hair cast its own shifting, eerie glow.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…_

As she watched, he stood upright, withdrawing his left hand from the playpen as he looked over at her. She couldn't move as he walked over, smirking, looking down at her hungrily, his large form looming over her. He brought his hand up, his _left hand_, to cup her cheek.

"Now that the _racket_ is taken care of…" He leaned over, pulling her towards him, the dead body of their baby only feet away…

* * *

Sam woke up screaming.

After a few moments she crawled out of bed, sticky with sweat, and made her way to the playpen. Her knees wobbled and she couldn't stop the tears streaming down her face. _My baby…my baby…_

Amazingly Nathaniel was still asleep, and she watched him as he breathed his tiny little baby breaths. But it wasn't enough. She had to _hold_ him; she had to feel his tiny heartbeat next to hers! So she picked him up gently and went slowly back to bed, curling into a fetal position with Nathaniel hugged to her stomach.

Sam lay for a while, just feeling him close by, and sobbed quietly, unable to stop.

The nightmares had started after Vlad's visit. She'd be running after Nathaniel, who was flying away from her, or she'd be looking everywhere in the apartment but he'd be gone. They were vague dreams permeated with a sense of dread.

Sam shuddered, and started stroking the tuft of hair on Nathaniel's head. This dream was different, so much more horrible.

Older Danny. The father of her child. He was coming back into her thoughts and dreams, and she'd been so tired, so distracted she'd halfway dismissed him instead of wholeheartedly banishing him, until her fears culminated into something that she couldn't absentmindedly bat away.

It didn't help that she nearly had her figure back. She looked almost as she had that horrible day nearly a year ago now, and this was only serving to trigger things she wanted to keep suppressed. But the fear was undeniable, and the question kept surfacing.

Was he…looking for her?

Strangely, she wasn't afraid for herself. At least, that wasn't what truly _terrified_ her. He'd said he loved her after all, and she actually thought he did, in a twisted kind of way.

But he was cold and hard, a killer, and she had no idea how he would react to Nathaniel. What would he _do_? Sam pulled Nathaniel a little closer, closing her eyes tightly.

After a moment she opened her eyes again, a little calmer, but then her fear was swept out in a wave of anger. It was _Vlad_, the self centered, egotistical _monster! _ He'd triggered these nightmares! As if she didn't know why he'd given her that playpen! He'd made Nathaniel his knew pet project, and she had no doubt that he wanted him for a son, eventually.

She hated that playpen. She needed it, but she hated it. It came from Vlad, and never failed to remind her of how powerless she really was. Nathaniel wasn't inside her anymore; he could be taken away, pried out of her arms!

How _sweet_ of Vlad, offering to _help_ her! _Of course_ she could use more stuff, like a ghost detecting device, or even a ghost _shield_, but getting them from _Vlad_ made them next to useless!

Sam fidgeted for a bit, frustrated, and then started caressing Nathaniel's hair again. That nightmare had managed to trigger all her major fears, it seemed. She let out a long shaky sigh, and tried to think of other things.

Her mind almost immediately jumped to her family and friends, and the familiar sense of loneliness rose up again. What about _her_ Danny? Was he still looking for her, or had he given up hope months ago? Sam knew her parents wouldn't stop looking. She was their only child, and they had the money to spend indefinitely on searching for her. But had Danny moved on? He had his _own_ family, after all.

That had been the plan, of course. She'd leave, and Danny would move on. She'd made sure they all had every reason to believe she was alright, of course. Thinking she was kidnapped or maybe dead wasn't going to help Danny any. It should've been easy to connect the dots after she left, however.

She _had_ thought about contacting someone though, one of her parents probably, to let them know she was safe, that everything was fine. But that wasn't strictly true, obviously, and she didn't know if she could keep up an act over the phone. If she broke down, that would be _worse_, wouldn't it? And anything sent through mail was too easy to track.

But what could she do? Her parents couldn't handle a half ghost grandchild; there was no doubt in her mind. She hadn't thought it was possible to get pregnant in the first place, but when she had, she'd guessed it would mean a half ghost child (though she _hadn't_ thought her child's powers would manifest in the womb).

Sam reached up and rubbed at her face with one hand; her cheek was getting a little itchy from her salty tears. She'd finally stopped crying, though her breathing still shuddered along to its own choppy rhythm. She let out a shaky sigh, and her thoughts continued along their forlorn path.

When it came down to it, her parents hadn't been the deciding factor in her decision to go, had they? It had been Danny all along. She'd wanted to _protect_ him, to keep him from finding out about what his other self had done. But…what had she really accomplished? Vlad knew her secret, and where to find her, though she knew he wouldn't tell anyone.

But that was the problem. He would keep her secret because he wanted Nathaniel to himself, and Danny was the only person who could really offer protection against Vlad. But in order to get that protection, she'd have to go back _home_! The last ten months would have been for nothing!

But Vlad…_couldn't. _ _Have_. _Nathaniel_. She _wouldn't_ give him up. He didn't want the dirty diapers to deal with, but in a year or two or three he'd come one night, and take him away forever if she didn't do something. Sam _wouldn't_ let that happen, and was beginning to realize that if it was a choice between losing her son to a madman and deeply wounding her best friend, she'd choose the latter.

Wounds healed, after all. Right? She'd wanted to protect him, keep his…innocence, she supposed. Sam knew Danny, and knew that letting him move on from her, get over the loss of her company, would be better than finding out he was to blame, however indirectly, for hurting her in one of the worst ways a man could hurt a woman.

She'd known for a while that Danny had weaknesses; that he couldn't stand being responsible in that way. It would tear at him, and would lead him down a dark path he wasn't meant to tread. However much this sounded like the goth in her speaking, Sam knew this was true.

She didn't _want_ him to seek revenge for her. She didn't want him to dip into the those dark places as his other self had done, just to _match_ him, to bring him down, and…what? _Kill_ him? Kill _himself_, as his other self had done in the future? She'd thought about it, and she knew that she didn't want to be the crux, the focus that led to his fall (his _second_ fall, her mind added.)

Sam sighed again, and moved away from those dark thoughts. She curled up around Nathaniel more tightly as lighter memories passed over her mind's eye, and a sense of almost calm began to descend. _Danny_. Her ghost fighting, nervous laughing, secret keeping, Paul_eeeeee_na loving ghost boy. _Humph_. She wasn't going to pretend he didn't annoy her sometimes, but…just thinking about him right now was cheering her up, the…clueless idiot.

Sam closed her eyes, heart aching. Over the past few years she'd come to accept the fact that she loved Danny deeply, and being away from him had made these months very, very hard for her. But if it meant preserving his world, if it meant preserving _his happiness_ the best that she could given the situation, she'd stay away.

Had it been pointless though, if she ended up being forced to seek his protection against Vlad? And what if his feelings for her had been deeper than she'd thought, than she'd _allowed_ herself to think, and her leaving had been harder on him than she'd predicted?

But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that murder would destroy him, fundamentally _change_ who he was. She'd seen what he could turn into. Her leaving may have left him with a vague sadness, but not the murderous feeling of vengeance she was _afraid_ for him to feel. Angels couldn't murder if they wanted to stay angels. And dark angels didn't count. She'd already met his dark angel.

Sam let out another shuddering sigh that turned into a yawn, feeling miserable, and a little weirded out by her own thoughts. As she grew sleepier, her thoughts always grew wackier.

She'd catch a few hours sleep, and things would look brighter in the morning. She'd be able to think things through with a _clear_ head, and figure out what she needed to do.

Keeping this thought in her mind, Sam slowly fell back asleep.

* * *

**Amity Park, the next day**

Three days ago marked the seven month anniversary of Sam's disappearance, though Danny knew she'd actually left the week before that. _Maybe_Jazz_ is finally starting to get **worried**._

He'd had a nightmare about her last night, and had been avoiding thinking about it all day. _Not_ thinking about something took a lot of concentration, apparently.

Danny sat staring grimly down at his world history book, completely oblivious to the lesson being taught. His grades were in the pit; there was no getting around it. It wasn't that he didn't _care_, he just, well…he _didn't_ care. His parents did, though, and Mr. Lancer, and Tucker, even. Everybody except him. At this rate he'd probably have to repeat his senior year.

_Like I'll even bother_, he thought darkly. He could build a fortune if he wanted. He was half ghost! All he had to do was possess the right CEO here, peek in on some insider trading there…and he'd be rich. A little cheating wasn't a big deal; it wasn't like anyone would even know. Except Tucker, maybe, and he'd never been much of a deterrent in his life before.

_Hmmm_. Jazz would be upset. Too bad. She wouldn't have any proof of what he was doing unless she decided to expose his secret, and by the time she realized what he was up to she'd be too late to successfully _do_ that. Like Vlad, he would be able to pay for privacy, and protection.

Somehow that comparison didn't bother Danny like it used to. The _old coot_ would probably be thrilled, thinking he was "becoming more like him", yadda yadda yadda. Whatever! He was practically an adult now, and if the idiot _insisted_ on sticking his head into his business, he'd better be prepared for the consequences…

"…enton?" Danny looked up from giving his history book the glare of death. "Mr. Fenton? Care to share whatever it is you're concentrating so _hard_ on, because it _clearly_ isn't this class!"

_Ho Hum._ Mr. Lancer was frustrated. Again. _Fancy that._ Why was he even still his teacher, anyway? This was his senior year! Couldn't he go pick on the freshman?

"Mr. Fenton? I'm _waiting_." Danny had transported his stare (of death) to Mr. Lancer without a blink; without even registering the change, really. Lancer was tapping his finger against his arm, looking angrier by the second, and Danny lazily rewound his thoughts to figure out what he'd asked him.

_Oh yeah._ "Just thinking how pointless this all is, Mr. Lancer." Danny answered in a chipper voice, smiling a deceptively sweet smile. He could see Tucker raising his eyebrows at him from the side.

"_Danny! Dude, cut it out!_" It was a strangled whisper, an attempt at breaking him out of his strange mood. It worked, but just barely. _Better humor Tucker…_

"I…I mean, how pointless all these little European wars are from the sixteen hundreds. I mean, if you're gonna have a war, go for a big one, like World War II! Mass slaughter, gigantic bombs of destruction, talk about cool! Now _there's_ a piece of history that'll never be _forgotten_." Mr. Lancer looked at him strangely for a few moments before apparently deciding to dismiss him altogether, and the class continued.

A little while later school was out for the day, and Danny and Tucker were headed for their lockers.

Tucker looked over at him, puzzled. "What was _that_ all about? I mean…_mass slaughter_?"

Danny smirked. "No clue. Sounded good at the time."

"I swear you're getting crazier by the minute."

Danny smirked more. "But that's why you hang out with me."

"No, it's not! I hang out with you because we get along, and you're fun to be around…or _used_ to be." The last was muttered under the breath.

Danny decided to ignore it. He was feeling darkly playful at the moment. They stopped at their lockers, and he threw him a mischievous look. "But maybe crazy _is_ fun, Tucker."

"I think you need a few sessions with your _sister_, Danny. Crazy is _not_ fun. You should've fought enough ghosts by now to know _that_."

"Awww, is it _really_ so wrong to be obsessed with boxes? Or technology?"

"You're leaving out the part about taking over the world, or granting evil wishes, or obsessively keeping things in the middle ages…they're _all_ obsessed with something or another."

Something in that tweaked a nerve in Danny, and the funny mood quickly dropped away. He grimaced. "_Whatever_, Tucker." Danny closed his locker, having gotten what he needed, and headed for the door.

"Hey, wait up!" Tucker scrambled for a moment, and then hurried to catch up. "Danny, all I'm saying is you've got to…get things _going_ again."

Danny glanced over briefly. "What do you mean?" He _knew_ what he meant.

"I mean it's _October_, dude. I've heard of senioritis, but this is ridiculous. Summer is way over, and you need to start zoning back in." _You need to stop obsessing over Sam._ Tucker didn't have to say it out loud.

Danny's eyes narrowed. "Tucker…I _am_ busy. I _am_ concentrating. It's just not on _school_." _I'm not giving up on Sam, so just drop it!_ He grimaced, thinking about how much time he wasted every day at school when he could be focusing on what was _important_.

He frowned, the train of thought from earlier resurfacing. "It's not like school even matters for me anyway."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean? Danny?"

Danny looked at him sideways. "It means I've got _ghost powers_, Tuck."

Tucker paused for a moment. "What. Wait! You mean…you're thinking about _stealing_ your money like _Vlad_?"

"Brilliant, Einstein."

Tucker's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you hear what I just _said_? I said 'like Vlad' and all you're saying is 'yeah, sure, what's the problem'? You really _do_ need to see your sister for a check-up!"

Danny hunched his shoulders, drawing into himself. He didn't want to be hearing this. "Whatever. We're the only two halfas in the world. It makes _sense_ there's similarities. It _doesn't_ make him my role model or something."

Tucker was downright amazed, and crossed his arms, hackles raised. "Danny, how can you _not_ see that this is a bad idea? I can understand about physical similarities, but _mental_ ones? Do you really want to end up a bitter old man, alone in his stupid rich mansion, obsessing over things his money can't buy while his life _passes_ him by, because I'm _beginning_ to see some…"

Tucker stared up at the sky where he guessed Danny had disappeared into. "…similarities."

* * *

Danny flew upward, accelerating fast. _Now_ the comparison bothered him. He wasn't like _Vlad_! And he _wasn't_ obsessive! He didn't have anything to obsess _over_!

But a tiny voice popped up to disagree. _Anyone, though, is a different story, isn't it? _

_Shut up._

_And the Vlad comparison bothers you because you're _never_ going to find her._

_Shut UP._

_And you're going to end up lonely and bitter, and someday when you're middle aged some kid's going to tell you, 'you _really_ need to get a cat…_

_SHUT UP!_

Danny continued to speed up. Maybe if he was a _little_ faster…okay, a _lot_ faster, he could fly around the world until it started spinning backward like in that old Superman movie, and he could turn back time…_yeah. Right._

Maybe if he'd never gotten ghost powers in the _first_ place, whatever happened to Sam _wouldn't_ have happened, and he would be living a normal life right now! No fighting ghosts, because, _ha!_, the Fenton portal only worked because he stuck his nose in it in the first place, right?

Danny frowned miserably to himself, and started slowing down. He'd actually kept flying nearly straight upward, and was now miles above the Earth. The air was extremely rarified, but this didn't bother him much as a ghost.

Actually, Sam had been the one to suggest he go into the Fenton portal in the first place, and the fact was that he might have had a tricky past few years, but it had been manageable. He'd survived, and even enjoyed himself occasionally…_more_ than occasionally, when Sam was still around. It was only after she'd gone that all the ramifications of being a halfa _really_ started hitting home.

Danny stopped flying upward altogether, and began heading back down, slowly. Then he just let go completely, and gravity took him. Of course, he could never have experiences like _this_ without his ghost powers, he supposed. _Does Vlad ever go sky diving?_

It felt strangely freeing, letting go of control like this, and just falling, like any human would fall. No flying. He did bring up a tiny shield almost immediately though, to protect his face.

In only moments the pressure of the wind equaled out to stop Danny from going past a certain speed, and he watched, almost bored, as the tiny dots that were buildings and other landmarks started to grow.

Maybe he'd been afraid of heights once, but no more. Not when he'd had to get used to falling through the floor, and getting hit out of the sky too many times to count. Still, this experience was too intense to ignore altogether, and the excitement never failed to drive any deep thoughts straight out of his head.

That was why he was _doing_ it, he supposed. Sam, Sam, _Sam_! He was _tired_ of thinking of her, but couldn't _stop_! He was _tired_ of running into dead ends. He was tired of_ dreaming_ about her.

Danny slowly brought himself out of the dive, all four limbs falling gently forward as the pressure holding them up slackened. He was still hundreds of feet up. Apparently…even _sky_ diving wasn't enough to drive her away.

Putting his hands behind his head after a moment, Danny flew slowly toward his house, feeling empty, flying over Sam's on the way over.

_Sam's…house_. He stopped in mid air, and slowly turned back. He wanted…to stay in her room for a while. Just for a little while, to think, and remember. He flew down to her window and phased through, unafraid of being seen. He'd stayed invisible ever since leaving Tucker.

Her door was closed, which suited Danny just fine, and he floated to the floor silently, reverting back to his human form. Her parents hadn't changed hardly anything, to his recollection, and it looked like Sam's mom was keeping the place clean. Or a servant, probably.

Danny wandered over to the dresser, trying to remember all the little things she used to have littering it. Goth accessories, mostly. Her purple lipstick, hair ties, the black bracelets she always wore. And in the last few years, she'd kept a Fenton thermos there, too.

He was a little amazed at the clarity of the memories actually, but then everything about Sam had been brought into focus over the months, like a painting thrown into sharp relief. Her different moods, the way she moved when she walked, how she smiled. How wonderful and beautiful she was, and how he'd been pretending not to notice for_ years_.

How strong she was. She was tough, but sweet. She was so focused and aware of what she stood for, what was _important_ to her, when most girls her age just wanted a boy to notice them. All these things about her just kept coming up as time went by.

She was very brave, too. How she'd handled herself with Prince Aragon was amazing, or how she was always reminding him of what was important, and how she always watched his back for him. How she hadn't wanted him to cheat on the C.A.T. a few years ago, even if she'd said otherwise.

Danny walked over to her bed and sat down slowly, feeling sad and a little guilty. He hadn't meant that about stealing for a living, really, had he? It'd just been a power trip. He _could_ if he wanted to, sort of thing. And he still didn't know where that crud he'd spouted in Mr. Lancer's class had come from. Too many ghost fights, probably.

Danny lay back, hands up above his head. Sam would _hate_ it if he built his life on other people's hard work. She probably wouldn't hate him, but they definitely wouldn't be on good terms. If she were still here though, he wouldn't have thought about it in the first place, would he?

She was good like that, keeping him out of the stupid kind of trouble. She'd tell him in a sentence or two why his idea was stupid or just_ wrong_, and he'd shake his head, wondering what he'd been thinking. She was the moral one, keeping him and Tucker (and mostly him) centered.

What would things be like if _she_ was the one with ghost powers, anyway? Very different, he was sure. Would that make _him_ the damsel in distress, he wondered? Heh. She'd _love_ that.

Danny turned onto his side, curling into a fetal position. The nightmare about her last night…it had been in this room.

That was partially why he'd been drawn here, and why he remembered details about her room so well, like what she kept on the dresser, the color of the walls, the carpet, how her bed felt…

No, he didn't…he didn't _remember_ that, that was just a coincidence, right? Had he ever even _been_ on her bed before? He didn't think so, but he could be forgetting. Maybe some night when they were all doing homework together, or researching ghosts…? But usually they communicated via internet, seeing as how Sam's parents weren't exactly fond of him. Danny frowned, confused, and pushed away the strange feeling this pseudo-memory of her bed brought.

His thoughts returned to the nightmare. It had been a short dream, and Danny couldn't express in words why it had horrified him like it did. But he'd woken up breathless, and terrified.

He'd been flying, just wandering through the neighborhood, dogs barking at him, that sort of thing, just like he sometimes did at night to clear his mind. Then her house had been right there in front of him, and he'd wanted to enter, nervous but excited.

He'd fazed through the window, just as he had a few minutes ago, and made his way over to her empty bed, wanting to lie down, to feel comfortable and safe, and to be surrounded by all things Sam. The dream had become so _real_ just then, so powerful, and for a moment he'd felt warm and happy as he'd nestled under the covers.

Then he'd registered a change, and realized it was the shower cutting off. He remembered wondering who was in the shower. A moment later _she'd_ been standing there, fully clothed. (Which, in retrospect, didn't make any sense.)

Then she'd opened her mouth and screamed at him. Her screaming had been an _explosion_, tearing him to pieces, the freakish clarity and reality of it assaulting him and sending waves of shock through his system. It was Sam _dying_, Sam being torn apart in front of him. It was all his terrors about her realized at once, in that one scream.

He'd jolted awake, barely stifling his own yell, and hadn't slept much more after that. Fortunately it had been nearly time to get up anyway.

_Why_ had he dreamed this, though? She'd been screaming at him. She'd seen _him_, and started _screaming_. It cut him deeply, thinking that there might be some meaning behind it, and Danny couldn't express in words how this frightened him. It exposed a fear he didn't know he even _had_, it was buried so deeply.

Danny curled more into himself, trying to forget and trying to make sense of it at the same time. Maybe it was his fear about how he'd been changing, and how Sam would react? But he didn't think things had gone _that_ far south, had they? If he was honest with himself, though, he _had_ been…sort of drifting off course, acting in ways he never would've a year ago.

But when Sam left, he'd been forced to take a step back and look at his life. To look at what he was, and what that _meant_. These weren't happy thoughts.

First and foremost, he was a freak. It was true. He had to watch his back the rest of his life for fear of someone discovering his secret, knowing for a _fact_ that his life would cease to be his own if his ghost half was revealed. Even his own parents wanted to dissect him, though they didn't know it. And now his best friend, the hope for his happy future, had mysteriously disappeared. Of _course_ he was having some issues!

Danny turned over on his other side, fidgeting, and irritated with the world. Sure, he could go Vlad's route; become rich and powerful, and protect himself that way. But why bother, since he had the proof in Vlad that it _wouldn't_ make him happy. He wanted his loved ones near him, and Sam by his side!

He'd realized things. Like, what was the likelihood of finding another girl he could trust with his ghost powers? And then there was actually liking that girl, _loving_ them- he couldn't even imagine it. He almost felt sorry for Vlad, finally seeing things from his perspective a little more clearly.

There would…never _be_ another Sam. But until she'd gone, he'd never thought these things through. Now they seemed to pound themselves over his head, chanting "idiot!" every chance they got.

Danny sighed, feeling drowsy, and let his eyes fall closed. He hadn't been getting much sleep, which wasn't helping his temperament any. Speaking of which, he really needed to apologize to Tucker later…again.

After the trip to Vlad's, he'd done some research on where Sam might've gone. That had been utterly hopeless, of course. It was like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing, as was figuring out the reason for her disappearance in the _first_ place.

So he'd quickly gone back to searching through the ghost zone, asking the ghosts he wasn't familiar with if they knew anything. He was also keeping an eye out for the entrance to Vlad's ghost portal. It could prove useful in the future, after all, and was probably something he should've located years ago.

He'd started looking for Clockwork again, too. Really, if he could just have _five minutes_ with him, he could find out where Sam had gone! Danny didn't know about actually trying to _change_ the past, since it was more than a little unsettling thinking that the last year would be erased from memory, however crummy it had been. And he really doubted Clockwork would let him have another crack at it in _any_ case. But if he could see where she'd gone, and why she'd left, he could take care of the problem and then bring her _back_. Make things…_right_.

Danny yawned widely, his thoughts slowing down to a trickle as he grew sleepier by the second. This was all…moot, since Clockwork seemed determined to stay hidden for some reason. _Why_, though? If Danny ever _did_ find him, he'd have to hold his temper in check, that was…for sure…

Danny was snoring quietly a few moments later, and didn't wake for several hours. He dreamed vague dreams of Sam, and her room. In his dreams the bed had purple pillows with black trim, though he didn't know how he knew.

* * *

_Autor's Note: Okee-dokee, hopefully some things jumped out in here...um. And if nobody catches on in the reviews, I guess I can clarify next chapter what I mean by that. But, you know...connections and things...yes...oO Thanks so much for reading! And I'm so sorry for the gross nightmare Sam had :(_

_Hmm...and also for anyone who hasn't seen the episode with Prince Aragon in it (SPOILERS), Sam gets kidnapped and is on the verge of being forced to marry him. To get out of it she makes herself as repugnant and unfeminine to him as she can, and basically saves herself before Danny even gets there. She's quite wild to see, and I have to admit I actually liked that episode pretty well, though I'm not in love with Dragons, and definitely not beauty contests. (I remember now! It was titled "Beauty Marked".)_


	13. Plans

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Here be Shout Outs! Arrg! **

**Fried nooooodles, Rachel Astraea Doshimi, pottersparky, seghen, FentonPhantom, **

**Karaway , Jiece 18, Lyoko'sPrincess, Leppers , Howdoesitfeel, Raven of the Night676, **

**Me The Anon One (whose fanfiction you should all check out), Divine-Red-Crayon, **

**rANDOM rEVIEWER, luv2bamom, Galateagirl, Celestial Moonshine, Cassidy, Emma **

**Annabelle Carter, The Raven of the Night,Twisted Rain, zombie-rodeo-frog **

**Sasia** – bwahaha, I can be creepy. Thank ye.

**Cassie** – woot, you left me your e-mail address! I'll have to…e-mail you sometime. :) I'm glad you enjoyed the Vlad/Sam talk, and I'm glad you could tell how much I love those characters. About using your review in my story description, heh, just so you know I do mention you by name in the author's note in the first chapter in case you were wondering. I didn't get the impression you were, but it might be nice to know that I do mention you! You're absolutely right about Carradine and Walkin, by the way. Walkin…he does creepy so very well. Also, your comment at the end, about the soul…very, very insightful. You're the only one so far to connect the dots, actually! As such, you can probably guess better than some where this story may be heading… ;)

**cardinal** – counterpoint between Sam and Danny…always a good thing in a story that I claim will eventually be S/D, eh:)

**JJ** – Thanks much! I'm glad you enjoy my own personal explanations of stuff.

**RedHatGuy** – Your secret is safe with me, you scallywag.

**DarkMoon1301** – Thanks, that would be telling, of course you want to know, and Gracias! **  
**

**Anyway, so…I'd like to say thanks a bunch for the reviews, truly :D**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Plans**

**Amity Park, Thanksgiving**

"A road trip?"

"Yeah! You, me, and Tucker. This Christmas break."

Jazz's suggestion percolated slowly through Danny's head. They were sitting on the living room couch after Thanksgiving Dinner, and he was feeling a little drowsy from all the food.

Somehow it seemed like a good idea, actually. They could travel west, stop a whole lot on the way, maybe…keep an eye out for familiar faces? "Where to? Any place specific you had in mind?"

Jazz shrugged, smiling. "Not really. Actually, I thought _you_ might like to choose, Danny."

_Ah_. So he was right in assuming this was meant to, once again, get his mind off of Sam. Jazz had obviously talked with Tucker.

Danny sighed and put his hands behind his head, leaning back into the couch. Mom had bopped into the kitchen to fix drinks for everybody, and Dad had followed quickly after to scrounge for something sweet, probably fudge. Apple pie and ice cream hadn't done the trick, apparently. The first faint scents of Mom's favorite brand of coffee were slowly wafting through the door.

Danny looked over at Jazz drowsily. "Have you mentioned this to Mom and Dad? They might want us around for the holidays, you know."

Jazz's expression took on a slightly timid look. "Actually, yes, they're all for it." She went on, as if trying to justify their reaction, which made Danny immediately suspicious. "I just told Mom that I really wanted to do some sight seeing, you know, to stay active over the break. But I still wanted a vacation, so this seems like the perfect combination, you know? Plus I thought you might like to get out of Amity for a while. And Tucker." She smiled again, and added wryly "It'll make me keep my head out of my books for a while, too."

Danny snorted, half smiling. "Plenty of time for that in the car, isn't there?"

Jazz smirked in response. "You _know_ I get sick if I read too long in the car, so that's not true. Besides, I want to spend quality time with my little brother." She gave him a fond look, and though she obviously didn't mean for it to show, a gentle concern tinged with sadness came through as well. She was worried for him.

Danny bristled at that, and it suddenly seemed pretty clear why she really wanted to go on this road trip. He couldn't stop his next words. "I don't _know_ Jazz, maybe what _I_ need is a _camping _trip to get me away from this town for a while. All these ghosts are _obviously_ wrecking my nerves. And who knows, this trip may be just what I _need_ to keep me from going _crazy_ or something." The sarcastic edge in his voice could've cut through rock like butter. He looked quickly away, feeling somewhat bad, but still angry none the less. If he needed help, he'd ask for it!

Jazz was silent for a long moment, letting him cool back down. "Okay." Her voice was quiet, and calm. "So maybe there are multiple reasons for this trip. But…I just want us to have a good _time_, Danny. I want you to be happy and enjoy yourself." Her tone was so sincere that it made him feel ten times worse for the harsh words. She meant well! Why was he blowing up at her like this? Besides, this road trip could be a good thing…

He looked back over, giving Jazz a quick, sheepish smile in apology. "I know that, Jazz. Things have just been…" He sighed, shrugging. "A road trip sounds like fun." He paused, looking up at the ceiling. "We'll have to see if Tucker's interested first, I guess…"

"Um." Danny looked back over, eyebrows raised, to see Jazz looking embarrassed.

"You already asked him, didn't you?"

"Yes?"

Danny brought his hands down from behind his head and sat up, feeling exasperated. He locked gazes with Jazz for a few moments. She looked distinctly guilty however, and his anger melted away.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back again. "I should've _known_."

* * *

**Later that evening**

Danny sat staring at a map of America he'd downloaded off the internet. He'd moved it into some cheapo photo editing program and had just finished drawing a thin horizontal line across it.

The line went from Wisconsin into the west, and just a tiny bit to the south indefinitely, and was to his recollection the direction Sam had been heading before Vlad's tracking device had been discovered.

_If I were Sam, where would I go? Assuming I didn't change direction after finding Vlad's tracking device, which is incredibly unlikely…_

Danny sighed and leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. This was pathetic. But it was also the closest thing to a lead on Sam he had, and in any case, Jazz had graciously suggested a road trip. It was a good thing she hadn't been there for the trip to Vlad's, though. He didn't want to fight with her, and if she found out he wasn't just going for fun and relaxation there'd be trouble.

Danny narrowed his eyes at the computer screen. The line skimmed the northern border of Iowa, then South Dakota, Wyoming, Idaho, and lastly Oregon, which was as far west as she could go without getting on a boat or a plane. Assuming Sam did stay on this vector, though, which state would she have stopped in? But again, if she'd found Vlad's tracking device, surely she would've changed her plans?

His only hope, then, was that she'd still had far enough to go that she didn't think she had to bother changing direction. Vlad would be searching for a needle in a haystack if she went far enough west, after all. This meant that the closer states were probably out, then. So maybe he should nix Iowa and South Dakota?

A tiny pit of despair was threatening to open up inside Danny as he let his chain of thoughts really sink in. What was true for Vlad was also true for him! And actually, this was _worse_ than searching for a needle in a haystack! How likely _was_ he to come across Sam on this road trip? One to ten billion or something? Even if he guessed right about which state she was in (which was totally unlikely in and of itself), there were still _millions_ of people in any one of these states to sift through! Danny leaned forward and took his head into his hands, feeling the burning frustration that had slowly simmered in his gut over the past months rise up.

His breathes soon came in short, angry gasps, and he had to stop himself from doing something violent and waking up his family. But he really, really wanted to _hit_ _something_! Where was the Box Ghost when you needed him?

Danny kept his elbows pressed down on his desk however, digging them in, and forced himself to stay human, and to calm down. He was _not_ going to do this! He was not going to lose control, again! No howling into the night sky, no flying at super sonic speeds, no beating up random ghosts! He was just going to get it…under…_control_.

After a few moments his heart rate went back down, and the burning in his stomach, the ache in his throat, began to subside. He took a few deep, slow breaths, and leaned back in his chair again. Then he let out a whoosh of air and ran both hands through his hair, consciously unclenching muscles that felt like taught bowstrings.

He'd already gotten angry at Jazz for nothing earlier today. He'd gotten it under control fast, but it was way too easy for him to just go off on someone these days, and he didn't like it. Also, he couldn't afford to just fly away and take out his aggression whenever he felt like it, not if he wanted to keep his ghost identity a secret.

Danny sighed again, and looked back at the computer screen, which was still glowing softly, impervious to his emotional turmoil. He focused back on the little line he'd drawn across the map, following it into the west with his eyes.

This _was_ something. Danny could feel he was right about this. Sam _was_ somewhere in this handful of states, and that narrowed the field down considerably. Though he still had no clue where she might be specifically.

Danny looked away from the screen, still aware of the slowly smoldering frustration in his stomach, a sensation that had been there for so long now it seemed like forever. Yet it _hadn't_ been there when Sam was still here, he knew. He let his mind wander from the map of America, and where Sam might be on it. He needed to drop it for a while; let it gestate in the back of his mind.

His thoughts drifted to his other tracking efforts. There was still no sign of Clockwork, and asking random ghosts about Sam was proving to be useless. They were pretty much either crazy or stupid, or both, and thus completely nerve wracking to talk to as a result. Danny _had_ located Vlad's ghost portal, though. It was a lucky thing, since it was well hidden. No doubt Vlad wanted to cut down on the number of random ghosts using it to get into the human world.

He'd discovered it over a week ago now. He'd seen Skulker at a distance, emerge from behind one of the floating islands found in the ghost zone. While flying over to ask a few questions, Danny had noticed the dull metal frame built into the rock of the island a few meters behind Skulker, and after their brief talk he'd taken a closer look. His suspicion had been confirmed; the portal's build was unmistakably familiar, despite the camouflage. Skulker hadn't come _around_ the little floating island; he'd come out of it.

Their conversation had been completely useless, though. Skulker knew nothing about Clockwork, still hadn't heard anything about Sam, and wasn't willing to discuss why he'd been to see Vlad.

"How Skulker occupies his time is nobody's business but his own." Danny had assumed that he was probably there to deliver some mechanical gizmo, though, since Vlad seemed to employ him for that occasionally.

Danny yawned suddenly, his jaw cracking and eyes tearing up. After getting over his anger, the sleepiness he should've been feeling was finally kicking in, apparently. He looked over at his alarm clock to see 1:21 a.m. glaring up at him in red through the darkness, and as he watched, the numbers unfocused into a red blob.

He blinked a few times, pulling himself out of his semi-stupor, and started shutting down the computer. He needed sleep. Figuring out the road trip could wait. Winter break was over three weeks away, after all.

As he slipped into bed his thoughts once again turned to Sam. Where was she? What was she doing right now? Was she thinking of him? Had she spent the holiday with anyone?

That night Danny dreamed he lived alone, and that when he looked out his window there were mountains in the distance.

* * *

**Wisconsin**

Vlad watched Samantha as she watched Nathaniel. She'd placed the sleeping child in his playpen, but wasn't quite willing to go to bed herself. He stared for a moment longer, then sighed and looked away. He knew she'd go to sleep in a few minutes if he left her alone.

Stubborn girl. Somehow she could sense when he was watching her, he was sure of it. He'd realized this at some point while scanning over the recordings he'd missed watching in real time. (He was ever hopeful of catching another one of Nathaniel' transformations.) In doing so he'd noticed marked changes in her behavior.

When watching her in real time, she sometimes looked over her shoulder, frowned to herself often, and did any number of other little things that suggested she was nervous. She also held Nathaniel most of the time. Vlad had thought this was her normal behavior given her trauma and currently difficult lifestyle, but this wasn't the case.

The recordings of her were different. She didn't look over her shoulder, would put Nathaniel down fairly frequently to do household chores more efficiently, and generally appeared more relaxed. After observing a while more to confirm it, he'd determined that she only exhibited this semi-paranoid behavior when he was watching her in real time.

It was quite annoying, but intriguing as well. The girl was _extremely_ perceptive. If he'd been in the same room, he could understand this level of sensitivity, but apparently she could feel his eyes on her even when he sat hundreds of miles away.

Vlad risked a glance back to the computer screen. Sure enough, she'd made her way to bed, and probably only moments after he'd looked away, too. He pursed his lips, brow furrowed, and turned off the monitor. It was strange, but he'd watch her, and more importantly Nathaniel, indefinitely if he didn't pay attention to himself. His thoughts would wander, but his eyes would stay on the view screen, the thought of seeing another transformation always in the back of his mind.

After realizing this was raising her anxiety he'd made an effort to stop and simply watch the recordings, but he still liked to check on them both in real time occasionally.

Vlad leaned back and steepled his fingers in thought. Today had been hard for her. Thanksgiving was the first family centered holiday she'd missed, and naturally she was thinking of the people she'd left behind. He could sympathize, though he wasn't one to wallow in self pity. He didn't have the time.

She wasn't the type either, but he couldn't miss the occasional tears, the sighs, and the times she would hold Nathaniel for no particular reason. It almost made him feel guilty. He could've told her family where she was months ago, after all.

But that would ruin his plans, and besides, it had been her decision to leave. He snorted softly. It was hardly _his_ place to tell her what to do.

Speaking of which, why was he thinking about this in the first place? It was late, so his mind was a bit muddled, and he did admit he was feeling a little emotionally off as well. He'd watched football, had his feast; had done the things one traditionally did on Thanksgiving. But he'd done them alone.

Vlad shook himself a little to clear his head. He didn't want to think about Maddie tonight. He didn't want to think about what should've been. It was better to spend time planning for the future, plotting out how he could gain back what had been stolen and how best to take revenge for the wrongs done to him.

Shifting to his ghost form Vlad rose invisibly through the ceiling of his lab and towards his bedroom, a dark smile playing over his features. He'd have his hay day, there was no doubt of _that_.

But the smile became wistful as his thoughts turned back to his present life, and to the people in it. In a strange if sad way, it felt comforting to know there were not only one, but two people out there who truly understood what it _meant_ to be a half ghost, or in Samantha's case, to care for a half ghost child.

Vlad rose through his bedroom floor and, changing back to his human form, he kicked off his shoes and strode towards the bathroom. He pulled out his hair tie as he went, shaking his head so that his hair fell around his face, and went about getting ready for bed.

In short, this…_condition_ ruined your life. It had certainly ruined his. It was true that he'd gained material things through using his ghost powers, but the other half of the equation, the _human_ half, had fallen by the wayside. It had taken years for Vlad to gain complete control of his ghost body, and his social life had died along the way.

Vlad smirked darkly to himself as half remembered recollections floated by. His ghost half wasn't the prettiest sight to behold (truly, he'd been scared half to death the first time he'd seen himself in a mirror), and doing things like sinking through the floor tended to…_bother_ people. His eyes glowing red at odd times hadn't been a good thing either, if memory served. Naturally, he'd become a near recluse for years, in which time he'd practiced controlling these newfound powers. His privacy and safety had very much depended on it.

And now it was no different for Samantha, who could hardly command Nathaniel, a small infant, to suppress his ghost half when in public. Daniel, the foolish boy, was finally beginning to understand what it meant to be a halfa as well, but he still didn't have the indescribable pressure of having no one, not a soul in the _world_, that he could trust with his secret. In this way Vlad had more in common with Samantha. Daniel still had his sister and Tucker to confide in, to cover for him. To run defense for him.

Of course, he knew there was a possibility that Samantha might give in and attempt to go back home. The pressure of her current lifestyle was tremendous, and after he'd revealed himself to her the anxiety she'd been feeling had only increased. And with good reason, he had to admit.

Vlad had thought it through, and though the idea of kidnapping both her and Nathaniel was distasteful, his hand would be forced if she attempted to leave. It would have to be done eventually in any case, as she could hardly resist going to Daniel for help when she found Nathaniel missing someday. And that would mean all sorts of trouble he didn't want to deal with. Daniel was quite a formidable foe, and the Mansons were quite rich. They would certainly call for a full scale investigation, which could potentially put him in a very precarious position.

As such, it was better to just take them both. Vlad hardly wanted to hold her captive, of course, but at least he could provide for her in every way she could possibly wish. With the obvious exception of allowing her contact with her friends and family.

Vlad scooted under the satin covers of his bed, having already changed for sleep, and frowned to himself. He shouldn't feel too bad about it, really. She'd already chosen Nathaniel over her family, over Daniel by leaving, and she'd still have the child.

And truly, it would be good for the boy to have a mother. Vlad hoped that over time Samantha would realize that all he wanted was a son, and that he could be kind and loving to the boy. He could be a good father. And even if she _couldn't_ see this she'd behave for fear of losing the privilege of being a mother to her son.

Vlad sighed, and turned onto his side. There was still the ace in the deck, however, the one wild card he couldn't predict in the form of Dark Daniel and the mysterious time traveling ghost. He liked a good puzzle, but after coming up with almost nothing over the past few weeks, he was considering asking Samantha a few more pointed questions. How exactly had Dark Daniel come from the future, for instance, and how had she learned of his creation? She'd been certain he was Daniel's pure ghost, but had he himself told her this? How powerful did she think he was? Did she have any ideas what his motives might be? The list went on.

Perhaps another interview was necessary? Hmm. He had an idea for a ghost gadget that might help her with Nathaniel considerably. He could work on that, and speak to her while dropping it off, as a sort of olive branch, possibly.

Then again, maybe he should be pro-active and just move them both here right now? That way he could ask her all the questions he liked at his leisure. And there was, after all, the constant danger of Samantha contacting family or friends as long as she lived on her own.

Her phone _was_ tapped, and he had the ability with the click of a button to cut her phone line. But even a few moments' conversation with Daniel could ruin the game of chess. Still, there was a very good reason for letting her live on her own for a while longer. Vlad needed her to be desperate, to some extent, and ready for another helping hand. His, specifically.

But it was a delicate balance. Samantha couldn't be pushed far enough to call or return home, but if life was too comfortable she wouldn't be as easy to manipulate when he _did_ bring her and Nathaniel to live with him. Not that she was easy to manipulate in any case, but he hoped that the stressful environment she was in would considerably wear her resistance down over time.

Ideally this meant she would continue to live on her own for the next few years. By then she'd be begging for extra help, what with having to go back to work and raise a child she couldn't trust with a baby sitter at the same time. Quite the impossible situation, actually. Vlad smirked to himself. He'd be practically _rescuing_ her at that point.

Actually, when it came down to it, he would be doing Samantha a huge favor. She had already decided to stay away from family and friends and raise the child on her own, so it wasn't like he would be taking her away from them. And she would be considerably more comfortable living under his protection. There would be no cause for stress in her life whatsoever, no fear of Nathaniel's powers being discovered, no worries about money, and any freedom she felt she lost would be minimal. And it wasn't like she had much freedom right now, what with being trapped at home most of the time.

Actually, living with him would give her more time to do what she liked with herself, not less. She could even go out occasionally, to see a movie or what not, if she behaved well. Although, he _would_ have to accompany her, of course. Still, clearly the life he could give her and Nathaniel was infinitely superior to the one she currently led, and so long as she could accept that fact they'd get along swimmingly.

Vlad brought up his right hand, holding it out in front of his face, and slowly turned it partly intangible, letting it hover somewhere in between solid and ghostly. A tingling sensation ran from his mid-forearm, where the ghostly turned human, and up into his shoulder. His mind was wandering over what-ifs of the future, he knew, but perhaps this was a fitting end to such a nostalgic day?

For him, involuntarily turning intangible had been a nightmare early on. But what would it have been like to grow up with these powers? It would be wonderful to raise Nathaniel, to be the one to help and guide him through life, and through mastering his powers. And Vlad knew _he_ would learn new things in the process as well, since the child was already using some of these powers naturally, instinctively. To some extent, controlling them would be like learning to walk for Nathaniel, or learning to control any other basic bodily function. Still, perhaps Vlad could teach the little badger a thing or two, and certainly Samantha would see the benefit of having him there to help with these things.

Truly, truly…there were so many things she was ill prepared for. She would never be able to discipline the boy effectively, for instance. If he didn't want to listen, all he had to do was fly through the wall! Vlad smiled to himself. Yes, Samantha might not know it yet, but he would be doing her the biggest favor of her _life_. And it just so happened to give him what he'd craved for so long as well.

* * *

**Idaho, the next morning**

Sam sat at the kitchen table looking out the dining room window, while Nathaniel ate breakfast. It was mid morning and the day was cool, crisp, and clear. From this window, she had a beautiful view of the Rocky Mountains, and they were particularly breathtaking at the moment, glittering in the distance. The view was partly why she'd chosen this apartment, actually. She might not have the freedom to go there, but at least she could appreciate a little of the beauty from here.

It really was too bad skiing was out of the question, though. She was actually pretty good at it, and was dying for a chance to stretch her legs. But Sam knew indoor aerobics would have to suffice, just as they had for the past several months.

Yesterday had been depressing in that it was a major holiday, yet nothing had changed in her routine, except that she'd taken the time to cook an unusually nice meal. But sitting down to eat it alone had only caused her to feel incredibly home sick for a while. When it came down to it she'd gone to extra trouble just to do what she _normally_ did; eat by herself, clean up by herself, etcetera.

At least yesterday had helped Sam make up her mind. She would be returning to Amity Park. She _had_ to. Vlad's involvement didn't really leave her a choice.

It was easier said than done, though. What would she tell everyone? And how would they react? She needed to decide on this before returning. Obviously Nathaniel would have to be explained, but did she really have to tell Danny the absolute truth?

And her family would assume bad things, _very_ bad things, if she didn't come up with something believable. Even as tiny as he was, Nathaniel's resemblance to Danny was already obvious, and would make coming up with something plausible (and unrelated to Danny) all that much harder. Her story, whatever it was, had to be absolutely rock solid before she left. As such, she planned on taking her time to figure it out.

Besides, she'd also have to slip by Vlad's net, (since she was sure he was watching her) and his wealth coupled with his ghost abilities would make that more than a little tricky. Sam was sure she could come up with a plan to get around him however.

Overall it was exciting to think of finally seeing her family and friends again, but terrifying as well. Could she really pull the wool over Danny's eyes? And if his future self ever returned, her cover would be blown regardless, she knew.

Of course, deep down she knew this was all just a dream. There really wasn't any way Danny wouldn't put two and two together, however believable her story might be. The facts would literally be starting him in the face. But this was something she wouldn't think about, since it wasn't something she could change. Danny had been the reason she'd left in the first place, after all, and to think about how it all had been for nothing was just too darn depressing.

And who knew? Maybe she _could_ pretend, and everyone would pretend with her, even Danny. He did have amazing powers of denial, after all. Sam smiled to herself. She couldn't help feeling happy at the thought of returning, and for now she could imagine for a little while that everything _would_ be alright when she returned. She'd come up with the perfect alibi, they'd all be overjoyed to have her back, and Danny would never find out the truth. Things would pick up where they'd left off.

_Yeah, Sam…**right**._ She ignored the voice.

* * *

_Author's Note: Well...yeah, this kind of dragged on into more introspection, less action, once again. Eheheh... So, things, will pick up very soon, I promise. :) And of course, if you could review that would be terrific! If there's too much introspection, too much this, that, or the other...or, perhaps not enough of something, whatevever it is... I'd love to know what you think. :)_


	14. Meetings

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

_Author's Note: Hello! Howdy! G'day, mate! So...if you're going to review a chapter, please let this be the one! (makes big gigantic puppy dog eyes)_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Meetings**

December 22nd

Danny gazed out the side window of the Fenton RV, his eyes wandering lazily over the landscape. For once, he felt completely calm. He was an observer, looking at life's trials and tribulations without being effected by them. Yet when the right moment presented itself he'd float back down, and _she'd_ be there waiting for him…

They were on their road trip; he, Jazz, and Tucker. Jazz was at the wheel and Tucker was in the back, asleep. Danny had woken up from his own nap only a few minutes ago, and had fallen straight into this strange mood.

He let out a tiny yawn and leaned his head back, still looking out the window. This surreally calm bubble couldn't last, he knew, but it was a welcome relief from the sadness and anger. From the feeling of desperation that had been gnawing at his gut continuously for months now. That need to search, search, _search_ until he found her…

He'd had a dream just now. It had taken place in the RV. He'd been alone, cruising along some two lane city road. He wasn't in the business district, or downtown, but somewhere close to your average neighborhood, with a few pizza places, some chain restaurants, pet stores; things like that. It wasn't really nice, but it wasn't run down either.

He'd stopped at a red light, and then…_Sam_ had opened the passenger door and climbed in. Somehow he'd known it was her even before looking over. When he did though, he'd seen that she looked tired, run down. But she'd been happy to see him. In fact, she'd been on her _way_ to see him.

The dream reunion had been wonderful, but there was no intense emotional outpouring. Instead, a calmness had descended over him as he'd slowly woken back up. And he'd been _sure_ in those first waking moments that all he had to do was watch for the right sign, and it would fall into his lap if he just waited for it…

Now he wasn't so sure. It was just a dream, wasn't it? Yet his eyes were drawn to the window, his attention focused on something beyond sight, absorbed in searching for that signal…

"…spy…something red." Danny blinked a few times as Jazz's voice filtered through to his brain, and slowly took a deep breath. _Oh yeah…_ That was right, Jazz had started up a game of 'I Spy' a minute ago, hadn't she?

"Um…" His voice came out quiet and husky. "The…coca-cola truck."

"No." _Ah. Oh well…_

Danny felt his mind drift off from the game again. They were starting to pass through another city. Maybe she was here…?

"Danny…" Jazz sounded aggravated. He looked over, a little surprised, and their eyes met briefly. After a moment, understanding trickled down.

"Oh…sorry." He looked around for a moment, and spotted a red Ferrari driving just in front of them. "I spy…something red."

Jazz rolled her eyes, answering instantly. "The Ferrari." Her voice was flat, with a sardonic edge to it. She glanced over at him again, briefly, and he tried to understand. Why the frustration…?

_Oh_. He smiled mildly. _Right, of course._ "That was yours, wasn't it? From a minute ago."

"_Yeah_." She was silent for a moment, and his attention once again drifted back to the window.

After another moment he heard a frustrated growl, as if from a distance. "Danny!" Jazz huffed, which was a truly rare occurrence for her. "_Look_, I'm going to pull over for a while, we're going to _talk_, and _you're_ going to tell me what's so riveting about the view."

Danny frowned. She was…_angry_. "Jazz…" Wait. Stopping actually felt right, somehow. "Okay."

They took the next exit off the highway, and a few silent minutes later they were driving through the city they'd been passing on the interstate. Various restaurants and stores went by.

Danny sat up, eyes widening. This place seemed…familiar! A Pizza Hut went by on the left. Hadn't he _seen_ that before? He heard the turn signal start, and looked back around to see where Jazz was planning to turn into. A Starbucks on the right…?

_No_. They should stop further down. Right up…_there_.

"Don't stop here, Jazz." She pursed her lips, still looking annoyed.

"_Where_ then?"

"That grocery store further down. On the right." He paused and leaned back, the calm sense of waiting settling around him again like a cloak. "Let's stop there."

Jazz flipped off the turn signal, both eyebrows raised. "Okay."

* * *

"…_brother_ on this trip, not a lump of unresponsive mush, Danny." He knew Jazz had a right to be mad, but even now he wasn't really tuning in.

"Hey, Cracker Jacks! I haven't had these since I was a kid!" That was Tucker, who despite his rude awakening a few minutes ago was still firmly in 'vacation mode'. They were currently wandering the isles, as Jazz vented her frustration.

"Tucker, I'm trying to have a serious discussion here." Jazz paused, and added, "Aren't you even a _little_ annoyed that Danny has practically been an inert stump over the past few days…? And when he _does_ talk to us, it's usually rude. And now _any_ communication seems to be too much effort for him…"

Danny kept walking, ear half tuned to the conversation, and glanced back to see a wary look in Tucker's eyes. Jazz had stopped him cold, and he looked less than happy about it. Danny smiled slightly. He turned the corner to the next isle, leaving the two behind for a bit.

_Hmm_. There was baby food, baby diapers, baby medicine, baby lotions…baby everything. The baby isle, then. There was a blond lady about halfway down with her back turned. He watched her idly as he started slowly down the isle, her profile coming into view as she turned to look for something.

She was slender, and pretty. And rather familiar, actually. It was unlikely he'd know anybody in Idaho, though. She was dressed casually, and had a baby slung around her stomach. She looked too young to be a mother, though. Maybe a babysitter?

Danny felt the hair on his arms stand up a little. That was…_strange_. She was blond, but her eyebrows were dark, maybe even black.

His breath caught in his throat, and a sense of shock radiated through him. _He **knew** that profile!_ All the feelings that had been strangely vacant since the dream suddenly came flooding back, booming over him like a wave, forcing him down into the real world.

His heart rate tripled. He found himself moving toward her, his walk escalating quickly to a run. He was _right_! He had to be!

"Sam! Sam _Manson_!" His voice rang out loudly, elated and desperate, and a little harsh. He was going to pick her up, hug her, _never_ let her go…!

Sam froze as she heard her name yelled out, the voice all too familiar. She snapped out of it quickly, frantically trying not to panic as she reached for her purse and dug through it desperately. She'd gotten careless, hadn't _really_ thought it would happen…! Her hands shook slightly as she pulled out her ghost protection, and terror squeezed her heart as she whipped around swiftly.

Danny came screeching to a halt just in time, eyes wide as he watched Sam thrust the Plasmius Maximus towards him. He stared down at it for a moment, eyes wide. He'd only missed getting zapped by maybe a foot.

After a moment he looked up and their eyes met, and Danny watched as the icy panic in her violet eyes turned slowly to shock. W_hy_ she'd tried to attack him became unimportant as he realized that this _really was Sam_…

"Sam…" It came out in a whisper; his voice was temporarily gone, throat clenched with emotion. He'd _finally_…he'd finally _found_ her!

There was a clatter as she dropped the ghost stunner, and he followed the noise with his eyes, slowly. He noticed absently that the baby she carried was covered from head to toe, hood pulled all the way over its face. Well, it _was_ cold out…

But that wasn't important right now. Danny looked back up and moved forward, closing the distance to Sam almost instinctively. He'd…finally _found_ her. But he still needed to _touch_ her, to know that she was real…

"Danny…" Her voice sounded choked. But she didn't push him away, and after a moment she hesitantly put an arm around his neck. He had to hug her sideways to avoid the baby, but he didn't care.

"I don't believe it….I don't believe it…_Sam_…" He was moaning gibberish into her hair, saying her name over and over, and tears were running down his cheeks. When had he started crying? But she was crying too, sobbing, the tears soaking into his shirt, as he continued to hold her, so he guessed it was alright. _Everything_ was alright now.

Sam wanted to pull away. He was moaning her name into her ear, over and over. But it was the _wrong_ voice; it was _that_ voice! Her tears redoubled as a deep anguish swept through her. He was…he was hugging her with _those_ _arms_! He was _crying_ for her with _those_ eyes, _that_ _face_! It was impossible to hold in the sobs, and she could only pray Danny mistook it for happiness…

Sam's breath hitched as she saw Jazz and Tucker coming around the corner, and she tried desperately to get herself under control. They couldn't realize…she _couldn't_ let them see how upset she really was…

But it was hard. Danny's embrace brought up terrible associations, and memories locked deep down were fighting their way back to the surface. But she couldn't afford to fall to pieces! It would break his heart!

Sam cursed herself for being so weak, and stupid. Somehow he'd stayed _sixteen_ in her mind. How stupid! Stupid, _stupid_! She focused in on that anger, using it to draw away the other emotions, the ones she couldn't afford to deal with there and then. It worked just barely, and she managed to pull her face into a mask. She should be _happy_ to see them. Happy!

She pulled away from Danny slowly, tightly controlling the reaction his hands on her waist had on her. They'd hugged all the time _before_, after all. She just had to remember those times.

She didn't look at him. Instead she focused on Jazz as she and Tucker walked over to them slowly.

"Sam!" That was all Jazz said, though her eyes were busy taking everything in. The baby, the cart, herself. Sam could see the shock as Jazz ran through the possibilities.

"_Sam_." She turned to Tucker. His eyes were wide, and he was tearing up. "I don't _believe_ it…" His voice was awed sounding, and he came forward to hold her closely for several moments. She was secretly grateful when Danny's hand finally fell away.

Sam smiled tightly, her breath hitching a little. How she'd _missed_ them! "Tucker. I s-see you've grown." He _was_ probably six feet tall, if she was any judge. Not towering like Danny, but a respectable height none the less.

They slowly pulled away, and silence descended for a few moments. Danny's hand fell on her shoulder very lightly, almost reverently, and Sam realized she was already getting over the shock of…how he'd changed. She looked up hesitantly and, surely enough, his beautiful blue eyes were glued to her face. She smiled, embarrassed, and looked down at the ground, the silence suddenly turning uncomfortable.

Jazz saved the day. "So…we've got the Fenton RV outside, and if you live around here maybe we can all go back to your place and catch up?"

"Um…yeah." She gave Jazz a shaky smile and turned back to her cart, and they followed her as she turned toward the front of the store. The rest of her grocery list could wait.

"So, Sam…what the heck happened to your _hair_? I always wondered if you were a natural blond…" Tucker looked over at her, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Sam pulled a face. "I'm _not_; it's dyed."

Tucker went on. "Well I'm sorry to say, but it kind of ruins the Goth look. Not to mention the purple-pink turtle neck. Though it _does_ go with your eyes."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "_Really_. I didn't notice, Tuck." She smirked a little.

"Tucker, knock it off already." Danny was hovering to her right, hand still on her shoulder. They stopped at the register, and she turned around briefly.

"Okay, maybe you guys can go get the car or something…? All I have is a bike."

"I'll go. Come on, Tucker." Jazz pulled on Tucker's sleeve, and he sent them a wave as he turned to follow her.

That left her and Danny. They went through the check out in silence, though Danny raised his eyebrows at her when the clerk addressed her as Mrs. Billsbury.

He waited until they were heading for the door before bringing it up, though. "Mrs. _Billsbury_. I take it that's who you're baby sitting for?" Sam grimaced, avoiding his eyes. That voice was going to take some getting used to.

"Sort of."

Danny gasped, and she jumped a little. "Sam! It's not credit card fraud, is it?" He whispered it nervously.

She almost laughed in relief. "No! Of _course_ not." She glanced up at him, which would also take some getting used to. "You'll find out soon." She made a beeline for the car waiting out front as fast as she could.

* * *

Sam swallowed nervously as they pulled into a parking spot at her apartment complex. She had sat up front with Jazz in order to give directions, and on the way over Jazz had told her why they were in Idaho. So far, it was just small talk.

As they got out of the car however, her nervousness started turning to abject terror. Soon she'd have to start answering questions, and _nothing_ would be good enough to cover up the truth. She hadn't come up with a decent cover story yet, and was frankly completely unprepared for this. And the apartment was somewhat of a mess, to boot.

They headed up silently (she was on the third floor), and after she got the door open they slowly filtered in. Sam could tell, as they looked around, that an interrogation was forthcoming.

The first question came from Jazz, as Tucker and Danny were putting the groceries on the kitchen counter. She spoke quietly, though the others had to be listening. "So…so the baby…?" Their eyes met, and Jazz didn't need to go on.

"He's mine." It came out in a croak. This was admitting _so_ _much_, too much to handle, almost. She walked slowly to the bedroom and put Nathaniel down in the crib, placing the lid over it. He'd just nodded off when she'd left for the store and was thankfully still asleep.

Jazz followed her quietly, and they both looked down at the playpen. Sam glanced up, and spoke quietly. "His name's Nathaniel."

"Nathaniel Manson?"

"Not…not yet. Right now he's Nathaniel Billsbury, my assumed name." She could feel Danny and Tucker both standing at the edge of the room, and slowly turned back around. Danny's eyes were burning, and as she came out he moved back as though to avoid her touch. She went to sit down at the kitchen table, feeling miserable.

"I'm…sorry there aren't more chairs. Only two." Jazz claimed the one across from her, and Tucker and Danny came slowly as if dragged along by some gravitational pull.

No one spoke for a little bit, as the shock slowly worked its way through everyone's system.

"Why even _two_, though?" Danny stood about six feet away, and Sam could feel the tension radiating off of him. She knew what he was asking. Why two if it was just her and the baby?

"It's just _me_, Danny. And Nathaniel, of course." Her eyes stayed glued to the table.

"_Sam_…" He sounded furious, sad, lonely, worried, and probably half a dozen other things. He needed to know what had happened, _now_. Sam put her hands on the table, and her face slowly started to screw up as her own emotions welled to the surface. _I wish you wouldn't talk, because I hate the sound of your voice, Danny!_ She pushed the thought away violently, biting her lower lip.

Jazz intervened. "Danny, _calm down_. Just sit down where you are. You too, Tucker." Jazz placed her hand over Sam's, causing her to look up. Sam felt lost, and trapped. Her eyes pleaded with Jazz for help, understanding.

Jazz smiled, trying to comfort her, though her brow was creased with worry. "Sam, if you want, Danny and Tucker can leave for a while?"

This time Tucker spoke up, voice even but worried. "No we can't. We know her _better_ than you do Jazz, no offense."

Sam wished they _would_ go away. Jazz was something they could never be: female. But it wasn't fair to them; they were her _best__ friends_, after all. And would putting off the inevitable really save her any pain?

"It's…_okay_, Jazz." Her voice was only a whisper. This was _anything_ but okay.

"Are you sure?" Sam nodded, and Jazz squeezed her hand. "Okay." Everyone fell silent, waiting. But Sam was anything but ready.

Jazz spoke up after a bit, gently urging her on. "Can you…tell us what happened?"

"I…" Her voice stuck in her throat, and she pulled her hand away, turning toward the window. Tears started making their way down her face, her throat working. What could she _say_? She couldn't just _say_ it! Not in front of Danny!

As if on cue, Danny found his own voice again. "_Who_, Sam?" It was a croak, barely audible. She didn't know if that was better or worse than before.

She turned back to him, meeting his eyes, and suddenly all her emotional barriers fell. The tears turned to deep sobs, and she couldn't stop herself, even when she was practically bawling in front of them all. She _wanted_ to speak, but she couldn't get anything out around the hiccupping gasps of air, and so just sat there, hands outstretched as Danny's face grew darker and darker.

He jumped up suddenly, and quickly sidestepped Jazz as she attempted to cut him off from her. In a moment his hands were grasping her upper arms, forcing her up out of the chair, forcing her to face him. It shocked her into silence as he yelled in her face, his own face turning red. She had _never_ seen him this angry.

_"Who_! Who _did_ this, Sam?" After a moment his face crumpled, the anger draining away as quickly as it had come, and he pulled her into a hug. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Sam…please. _Please_." It was a pathetic moan, and she couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand the pleading or his closeness anymore, as memories she needed to suppress rose around her.

She pushed against him, finding her voice. "Let me _go_, give me _space_, Danny!" She stepped on his foot, hard, feeling suddenly misused and angry. He pulled away a little, looking briefly like some forlorn, oversized puppy. She glared up at him. "You're so _pushy_!"

She stepped around him after that, and hightailed it to the kitchen to rummaged for cups.

"I'm thirsty. Does…anyone want some water?" Her voice cracked on 'water', but the tears were gone for now.

After a moment Jazz came to help. It was a silent truce; a time for everyone to cool back down.

Soon they all had some water, and not surprisingly, everyone took a long drink. Sam stared into her cup, swirling the remaining water around slowly. Somehow getting angry had helped calm her down a little, though she still felt frayed around the edges.

"I…was attacked." She spoke quietly, almost calmly, confirming everyone's suspicion; Danny's assumption. It didn't have to be sexual, spoken that way. It could've just been someone hitting her, which was infinitely better somehow. It didn't carry the terrible sense of shame.

She went on, slowly. "I left when I was about three months pregnant, because I didn't want you to know." It sounded so lame said that way.

"But why _leave_, Sam?" It was Tucker. "We don't blame you. We would've _helped_ you." She kept her eyes on the water, knowing that if she looked into any of their eyes she wouldn't be able to continue.

"I…it was complicated, Tucker. There was more to it than that. It…he…he wasn't your normal human guy, for one." Her voice broke again, and the tears started up, slowly, but thankfully more subdued thank before.

"It was a ghost." Danny's voice was low, anger bubbling below the surface, but it was contained for the moment.

"Yes." She whispered it. There was a long silence as this sunk in for everyone. Sam was amazed at how quickly Danny had understood.

"Which one?" Danny crossed his arms nonchalantly. He tried to make his voice light, but the animosity seeped through. _Which one, so I can rip their head off, and maybe a few other parts?_

Sam narrowed her eyes at him. "Why? What will you do?"

"What do you _think_ I'll do, Sam? Come _on_!"

"I don't know. Why don't you _tell_ me?"

"I'll _kill_ him, that's what! And if I can't manage that, they'll never have…," his voice caught, "_ch-children_ again, that's for sure!"

They stared at each other, attempting to glare the other into submission. Suddenly Danny looked past her, and started towards the bedroom. "What's the baby look like, Sam?" She ran after him.

"Danny, don't lay a _finger_ on Nathaniel, or _I'll_ kill _you_!"

He stopped at the playpen, arms crossed. "Fine, then you get him out so we can look at him." She glared up at him as the others came hurrying in.

"He's _sleeping_."

"Too bad!" He moved as if to push her aside.

"_Danny_!" A small cry erupted from the pen, and Danny smirked a little.

"He's awake now." He stepped back, motioning her smugly to the pen.

"You are the _biggest jerk_ I've ever met sometimes, you know that?" They stared at each other for a moment, both wearing deep frowns, before she gave in and turned to the pen. "Move _back_," she grumped. "I need room." He stepped away, and she slowly lifted up the lid, the worry she'd been feeling surfacing once again. Would he see the resemblance? What would they assume, if she didn't say anything?

She paused before reaching down to get Nathaniel, and looked over her shoulder. "One thing, Danny. There's one thing you need to understand more than anything else." She turned around to face him fully, her face suddenly furious. "I _love_ this baby. I _love_ Nathaniel, and you'd better remember that. You may hate the father, but this is _my baby too_."

He looked away, face tight, and after a moment she turned back around to pick up Nathaniel. She headed straight for the bed, sitting down on the edge, Danny at her heels. She looked up, a little surprised, when Jazz came to sit on her other side, looking intently down at Nathaniel.

They all stared for a moment, and his tiny face looked unusually serious at all the attention, his eyes wandering from one face to another. After a bit, he made a nervous sound, and put his hand on Sam's chest, little eyebrows raised. He looked up into her face, and she hugged him to her, whispering little words of comfort into his ear.

There was a strange silence as they all watched her, and then Jazz spoke up. "He's beautiful, Sam." Her voice was soft, and a little reverent. "Can I hold him for a little bit?" Sam looked up, and they shared a smile, something blessedly removed from their original goal in fetching Nathaniel.

"I…he's a halfa, and he's transformed a couple of times, so be really, really careful." Sam grinned, much to her own surprise. "Not the usual thing a mother says when handing over her baby, I guess." Somehow Danny had simply fallen out of the picture for a little bit, though he still sat right next to her. It had become two women fawning over a baby, and the men folk had been pushed to the side, probably feeling out of place.

The tension noticeably lessened as Jazz started making baby faces and funny sounds, playing with Nathaniel. "How old is he?"

"About three months. He was born on September 19th." She shouldn't have added the last sentence, because she could feel the temperature drop in the room as everyone did the math in their heads.

She answered the question for them. "December 17th last year. When I supposedly had the flu." Sam kept her eyes on Nathaniel, her expression neutral.

"Sam…just tell us who it is." Danny finally spoke up, quietly pleading.

She didn't look over. "Can't you _tell_?"

He growled in frustration. "I'd rather not say who it looks like. Blue eyes, black hair…It's not _Vlad_, is it?"

Sam turned around, incredulous. "_What?_ _No!_ What are you, crazy? Gee _wiz_." _Oh, gross!_ She turned back to Nathaniel, and probably would've laughed if the situation wasn't so serious.

Danny grunted in embarrassment. "Well, I didn't _really_ think so…" His voice dropped off suddenly, and Sam's heart froze. He had tensed up so suddenly…

She turned back around to face him slowly, worried. He was looking into space, his eyes moving side to side as if reading a book.

"Danny…?"

"The 17th…of _December_." His mouth formed a silent _oh_, and she watched as he stood up, drawing away from her. He stared down at her for a moment, and his eyes grew wide with horror as understanding truly sank in. "Last Christmas, Sam…just before…" He looked suddenly ashamed, and she thought he might cry, he looked so distraught.

She had to get him to listen to her! "Danny, it wasn't…you're not… It wasn't your _fault_, don't you understand…"

"Then I'm _right_!" He was drowning in shocked despair, eyes wide, desperately searching her face. He found the answer there, and suddenly couldn't look at her anymore. A moment later he literally flew straight through the ceiling, and they were powerless to stop him.

There was a stunned silence as everyone digested what had just happened. Even the baby was strangely quiet, perhaps sensing the serious atmosphere.

"Wait…so judging from his reaction…," Tucker tried not to put his foot in his mouth. "But I thought he was locked in a Fenton thermos, guarded by Clockwork…?"

Sam spoke in a dull monotone, feeling tired and depressed. "He escaped for a few days. But Clockwork caught up with him again, don't worry. He…talked to Danny a few days before Christmas, so Danny realized what must've happened. I'm…I'm surprised he didn't guess sooner, actually."

"Maybe he did." Jazz sounded contemplative as she looked down at Nathaniel, slowly starting to play with him again. Sam tuned in, mildly curious. She felt empty, like a glass of water that had just been drunk; she was completely emotionally drained.

Jazz went on after a moment, her voice very quiet, as if she were talking to herself. "Maybe he _did_ know for a long time, deep down, and was suppressing it. People do it all the time, you know. For instance, I firmly believe our parents have been suppressing the fact that Danny is actually half ghost for _years_. They're too smart to be that stupid at the same time, right?" Jazz looked up, and Sam realized she had tears in her eyes. Jazz wiped them away with one hand, and smiled weakly. "I have a nephew!" Nathaniel smiled up at her after a moment, and giggled a little.

* * *

Tucker and Jazz made their way into the kitchen to cook up some kind of dinner a few minutes later, when Sam said she needed to feed Nathaniel. She joined them after a while (they'd decided to order pizza, in the end) and she told them about the birth, about what Nathaniel looked like in ghost form (she'd only seen him change twice so far). She told them about Vlad's involvement, and about how she'd been planning to return anyway.

They stayed up late, talking about her life for the past year. They didn't talk about Danny very much, though both Tucker and Jazz assured Sam he'd cool down and come back, that he just had a lot to think about. Things had been especially hard on him after she'd left, after all.

* * *

_The next evening_

He'd found a particularly energetic entry point into the human world this time, craving the activity and bustle that was humanity in large numbers. Floating in the Ghost Zone for months on end with no one to talk to got lonely, after all.

Danny had been hanging around none other than the Big Apple for almost a week now, sometimes following people's conversations, and occasionally venturing into the financial district to start making sense of what it was that went on there. He knew he needed to start learning.

He'd actually been rather surprised to find himself in New York City, though he _had_ been aiming for a big city. Just not _this_ city.

Not that he minded. He'd even gone to see a musical several days ago, since this was the home of Broadway. It had been 'The Phantom of the Opera'. Sam had recommended it to him years ago. As the plot had unfolded Danny had had to laugh a little; it was her kind of story, though she'd _probably_ hoped Raoul would drop dead at the end. He smiled wistfully. If he was lucky, maybe he'd get the chance to ask her someday.

Right now it was getting pretty late, and he was seriously thinking about returning to the Ghost Zone for some sleep. He didn't need much, and hadn't taken any during his time in the human world, since he ran the risk of turning tangible while asleep.

Thus he was floating above the traffic of Times Square, idly searching for that cool touch of the Ghost Zone when he heard the words '_time out'_ come from behind.

And suddenly all the noise stopped. It was quite unnerving. He turned around to see Clockwork grinning at him, and crossed his arms in response, eyebrows up. This man, or whatever he was, had quite a mischievous streak.

Of course, the truly unnerving bit was that Clockwork was apparently able to _see_ him, visible or otherwise. He pursed his lips, annoyed. Not your usual spook, though he'd already known that.

Danny went tangible anyway. "So, do I get another question and answer session before you send me on my merry way?" He was actually very excited, the grogginess he'd been feeling completely forgotten.

"Actually, yes. I have just a few more words of wisdom, and then I _will_ send you on your way, to do as you please." He paused, and added, "Within the obvious limits. If you start blowing things up, don't expect me to look away." That grin was still playing around his lips, Danny noticed, though he didn't doubt his sincerity.

Clockwork let himself float slowly downward and landed between two cars. He started walking slowly, and Danny realized this was probably the first time he'd seen the other ghost bother with legs. Danny descended, joining him.

A few moments went by before Clockwork spoke again. "What were the words I left you with, Danny? Do you remember them?"

"Ah, not exactly." He rubbed the back of his head, slightly nervous. "You were talking about the soul. You said that it's not like your average physical object, in that…it's not restricted by space or time."

"Yes, exactly. Have you thought about what that means for you particularly?"

Danny was silent for a long moment. Yes, he'd thought about it a _lot_, but wasn't exactly eager to start putting forward theories. Why this round about approach, anyway? Was the time master trying to tell him something horrible? He swallowed, gathering his thoughts.

But he was saved answering when Clockwork went on. "Danny, what happens to your soul when you split your body multiple ways? Does only one of them think, feel? Or are they all simultaneously you?"

Danny frowned. "The latter, of course. It's like seeing through five sets of eyes, or however many times I split myself. But you said the soul couldn't be split, so…" He looked up, brow furrowed. "Like you said, it somehow exists simultaneously in five different places." He paused. "Look, I'm putting this together based on what you've told me, Clockwork, but I still don't quite _get_ what that really means, honestly." He put his hands behind his head and sighed. "I think I know what you're saying, though. Maybe."

They both walked a little further, but after a moment Clockwork slowed to a stop and faced him. "What am I saying, Danny?"

He stared back for a moment, reluctant to speak. He had to be wrong; it was too ludicrous, wasn't it? "You're saying that somehow the Danny of this time and _me_, from the future, even with the difference of ten years… that we're…" He raised his eyebrows, waiting for some indication from Clockwork, any hint that this was sound reasoning. "sharing…"

"The same soul. Yes." There was a pause.

"You're serious."

"Yes. You are the same essential being, in two different bodies."

Danny stared for a moment. "So it's like we have the worst case of multiple personality syndrome on the planet."

Clockwork raised his eyebrows a little. "Actually, you're not so different, I think. You've had different experiences, gained different knowledge, different habits. Different influences have led you down different paths."

Danny grinned, still trying to let this sink in. He'd been sure he was _wrong_! "You know, Jazz would've killed for this kind of psychological study material."

"Would, you mean."

Danny looked down at his hands. "Y-yeah." He paused. "So what does this mean, Clockwork? What do you expect me to do?" _ Why are you telling me this?_

"I was charged with looking after you, Danny. Looking after both of you. I could've kept you locked away indefinitely, and let Danny live his life out. But what then? At death his soul wouldn't have moved on. It would have been drawn, in its entirety, to the tiny thermos, and become trapped with you in your ghostly body." He frowned, looking away. "A punishment worse than death. Not even you, with all that you've done, deserve to be locked away for eternity, Danny. And your other self certainly doesn't deserve it."

Clockwork looked him in the eyes for a moment. "Yet after a lifetime of being trapped, I could hardly just let you out and expect you to _behave_. You would have gone insane long ago." Danny swallowed. _Not_ a pleasant thought.

Clockwork went on. "So this is the best of both worlds. Eventually you will join back together again into one body. This might not happen until one of you dies. That isn't ideal, of course, but better than the alternative." His tone softened even as it grew more intense, and Danny found himself leaning forward. "The _best_ thing, of course, is for you both to come to terms with this, and merge back together while still alive. This will make you stronger, and not just in the physical sense. You will be a better person."

Danny found his voice after a little bit, feeling a little amazed at the strangeness of the suggestion and craving more information. "You would know, wouldn't you?" Clockwork turned away, smiling to himself.

"You're right, Danny." He paused, and added over his shoulder. "I suppose you're worried that you'll no longer 'be you' after the merge?"

Ah. Well _now_ he was.

"You two must be similar enough in thought and action for this to be even possible, _and _you _both_ must be willing." Danny smirked to himself. _Well, then, _that woulddefinitely_ not_ be happening.

"You'll have all the memories of the combined parties, which will be seamless, of course, up until around the time of your family's death. And I know it's hard to take on faith, but you _will_ still be you." He grinned. "Just more so."

"Won't I make him a worse person? I doubt he's ever killed anyone, for instance." He looked away, following the line of cars down the block. _So many people…_

Clockwork's tone could only be described as sardonic. "You might be surprised." He paused. "But you're right; he hasn't. If you drip a droplet of ink into a bowl of milk, however, the entire bowl is contaminated. This would be equivalent to your soul, Danny. Any bad or good action taken by either of you effects you both."

"Sucks for him, doesn't it?"

"You might think so, but perhaps you were simply having certain experiences, and went through a period in your life that _he_ was then saved from going through directly? In which case _you_ got the short end of the stick, metaphorically speaking." He paused. "It may seem strange, but when you went into that dark place for all those years, Danny, and then managed to come back out again, you were forced to grow very strong in certain ways. You'll never go down that road again, will you?"

Danny looked down at the ground, frowning deeply. "No." He looked back up. "But maybe _he_ still would, is that what you're saying?" He locked eyes with Clockwork, trying to read the thoughts behind them.

"He has certain weaknesses that have been beaten out of you slowly, Danny. I'm not saying he would take an identical road, but he has the potential to turn very dark. He promised he would never become you, but that promise was based on the safety of his family and friends, the preservation of the life he had."

A cold fist clenched around Danny's gut. So maybe he wouldn't go ballistic again himself, but that didn't mean he wanted to see his family destroyed, _again_. "Are you telling me something horrible is going to happen?"

Clockwork raised his hands placatingly. "No, no. But life isn't eternal. People die, Danny, and you must have control over yourself, more-so than others, since when you lash out, buildings collapse, cities burn. Your powers force you to maintain incredible self-control."

They were both silent for a while as Danny digested things. Then Clockwork turned, and started walking again. He seemed to be taking time with each footstep, the pace was so sedate.

He spoke after a few moments. "Things will work themselves out. Everything happens for a reason, Danny. Work to become a better person, to pay off what debt you can for your crimes, and leave the rest to fate. Just never forget what you were once, what you've did in that state. And never let yourself go there again."

Clockwork turned to look at him and they held gazes for a moment. Danny could sense it was the end of the conversation. "I'm…free to go?"

"Yes."

Danny ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. "So…Will I ever see you again?"

"Maybe…probably." He added, "Do you know where you'd like to go first?"

Danny looked up at the sky. "I…want to make amends. I'd like to see Sam again, you know, beg her forgiveness, to let her know she's safe in…in the future." He grinned like it was a joke. Some things were too serious to say without a smile.

"I could take you to her, if you'd like." Clockwork's voice sounded strangely aloof. He looked over at him, feeling a little nervous. _What, right now?_

"That would be…that would be great." Waiting wouldn't help, he knew. He'd been waiting a year already, and knew exactly what he wanted to say to her.

"Alright." Clockwork came over to him and lightly grasped his wrist. A moment later they were in the ghost zone, and a few moments after that they were back in the human world. So fast! Danny was so surprised at the quick shift that the new location took a moment to sink in.

This wasn't Amity Park. "Where are we?"

"Never mind that." Clockwork pointed down at the building directly below them; an apartment complex from the looks of it. "She's just below us. On the top floor." He looked up at Danny, smiling a little. "Only a rooftop away." His eyes turned serious after a bit, and he sighed, one of the most human things Danny had ever seen him do. "Try not to scare her too badly."

"I…won't." He frowned, looking down at the rooftop. "I guess I'll be seeing you arou…" But in looking up to meet his eyes one more time, Danny saw that Clockwork had already gone. He looked back down, and started slowly descending toward the roof, and paused, a little nervous.

He let out a whoosh of air. Who was he kidding? He was _terrified_! Sam meant so much to him. What if she hated and loathed him? He _deserved_ it. He shouldn't be surprised if she did. But it wouldn't make seeing her hate any less painful.

But he had an obligation to let her know she was safe, that the other Danny was safe. He would never hurt anyone ever again, and intended to work to make up for what he'd done before; both here, and in his own time.

His resolve strengthened, Danny allowed himself to descend through the roof and into what appeared to be a living room. There was the faint smell of stale pizza and some sort of mild perfume. Maybe a scented candle, or incense? He moved hesitantly forward. The place seemed empty, but maybe she was in the bedroom? It was already getting dark outside; perhaps she turned in early for some reason?

_Why is she living _here, _anyway…?_ He phased his head through the bedroom door, staying invisible, and looked around cautiously. His eyes fell on a form sleeping in the bed. _Sam_.

Danny walked over silently and watched the rise and fall of her chest, a tender feeling coming over him. He drew back after a moment, however, not wanting to disturb her, and decided he'd wait for her to wake up on her own.

His eyes wandered away, as he knew he was probably in for a wait, and were quickly drawn toward a very large box in the middle of the room. _What…? _He moved towards it, curious.

There was…a _baby_ curled up inside. He stared for moment, confused, then turned back to the bed. He hadn't really looked that closely, just assuming it was Sam asleep, but maybe not…? This _was_ the right apartment, righ…!

His eyebrows went sky high. This woman was a blond! He floated up for a better look at her face, suddenly nervous.

No, wait…that was definitely Sam. But in a way, that hardly simplified things. She was living away from home, with a baby…and had dyed her hair _blond_, of all things. Maybe…she was actually a natural blond?

In the back of his mind things were starting to snap into place, but he'd learned years ago never to jump to conclusions. This wasn't necessarily her baby…

He floated back over to the baby pen again, peering down intensely into the darkness. He could see in the dark very well, but there was a lid over the top, and it was only semi-transparent…

Danny's mouth slowly fell open when he realized he couldn't phase through, and he just stood for a moment as the world turned on end. _What the…?_ He threw caution to the wind after a bit, and becoming solid, moved the lid away slowly, focused completely on _getting a closer look at that baby_…

It was only an infant, definitely under six months old. He was willing to bet it was right at three months old, actually, and that had nothing to do with his ability to judge based on looks. Basic math skills were all he needed for this.

He barely dared to even think the words, but they appeared in the back of his mind, unstoppable. He had a…he was a _father_.

He moved silently, leaning down as far as he could to get closer to the child. He was tempted to see if it was a boy or girl, but didn't want to risk waking it. It looked like a boy, but it was so very little he couldn't be sure.

The hair was black. What about the eyes? And did it ever transform? It would be a half ghost, right, since _he_ was a full ghost..? He hadn't even known it was _possible _for… But that would explain the playpen, anyway.

Danny brought his hand down carefully, letting himself become visible, and marveled at how large his hand was when compared to the child's. He knew he shouldn't, but couldn't stop himself from running the back of his palm ever so carefully along the baby's cheek.

A feeling of awe slowly enveloped him as he watched the tiny infant sigh, and shift slightly in its sleep. He couldn't look away, it was so captivating, and a warmth he hadn't felt in a long, long time stole over him. He was a…_father_. He knew this had to have been _so hard_ on Sam, and somewhere he was mourning that, but…he had a _child_, and nothing could destroy the wonder of this moment. _He_ had a child…

Danny heard a loud gasp, and turned his head to see Sam springing up from the bed, horror etched on her face. He'd been so absorbed he hadn't even noticed her waking up…

The beautiful silence was shattered a moment later as she came at him screaming. She rushed at him in a panicked fury, beating against his chest again and again, screaming at him to get away, get away, _get away!_

Danny let her push him backward, seeing that she was beyond coherent, beyond reasoning with, and kept his hands down, palms open, unthreatening. If he just waited it out, she'd see in a minute…she'd see he didn't want to hurt her or the child. But it was still painful to see her react like this, and he couldn't stop his face from crumpling slightly, and swallowed back the lump in his throat.

_Buck up, idiot._ _Of **course** she'd react this way. Just…wait until she cools down…she'll cool down in a minute_. She had to be running on pure instinct, because she _never_ would have rushed him while in her right mind, he knew.

"_Don't touch him, don't touch him, don't touch him…!_" She kicked and punched without aim, having pushed him up against the far wall, and finally brought her hand up and raked her nails across his cheek.

Then she finally stopped, drawing her hand back quickly, eyes wide, wincing, as a warning bell blared in her mind. What…was she _thinking_? Her mouth fell open a little, and she looked up slowly, fearfully, into his face. They stood staring at each other for a moment as a tiny stream of ghostly blood started down his cheek. His eyes were sad, hurt, his brow deeply furrowed, and he slowly reached up to trace the scrape.

"Ouch." He brought his hand down slowly, passing only inches away from her, and she backed away a few feet, realizing how close they were standing. "I'm…I'm not going to hurt you, Sam." He raised his eyebrows, and smiled a tiny smile, his face full of things she didn't want to acknowledge. Tenderness, hurt, shame…regretfulness? Her eyes focused on his cheek; anywhere but his eyes. "Honestly, I…," she watched his Adam's apple bob, heard his voice crack. "I deserved that. Much _more_ than that…" His throat was constricting so much he could hardly get the words out.

A deafening silence stretched out between them as they both simultaneously looked away; to the floor, the ceiling, just not at _each other_.

Danny opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. What he'd planned to say…it was all wiped away, now that he knew she'd had a child. He swallowed again. "What…have you named it?"

Sam couldn't believe her ears, and looked up to see a strangely shy look on his face. She tried desperately to ignore what else she saw there. A glimmer of happiness, a touch of hope… She folded her arms across her chest, feeling confused, and quietly answered his question. "Nathaniel."

"Nathaniel." So it _was_ a boy. "That's a nice name. Knowing you, it probably means something?" This was _crazy_. He hadn't felt shy like this since…well, it had been a long time. But she was actually _talking_ to him, and he was afraid to spoil the moment.

"Gift of God." Sam realized, as she looked up at him, that no one else had thought to ask her that yet. It almost felt like she was giving away a precious secret, and she realized she might be blushing a little. "It means 'gift of God', and his middle name, Zakai, means…i-innocence, purity." They stared at each other, Danny's eyes widening a little. _Innocence_…

He looked down, his mouth pulling into a slight grimace, as the guilt he'd been feeling for months came back to the surface. "I've changed." He was speaking to the floor, his voice a quiet caress. "I came here to tell you that. I've…sworn never to fight again." He looked up, so she could see how sincere he was. "I _never_ want to hurt anyone ever again, Sam. Clockwork…he helped me see that I canstart over." He picked up a little momentum as he spoke, somehow excited to be talking to her about this, telling her his plans. It helped make them real, a promise for the future.

She watched as his eyes brightened up. It felt so surreal, listening to him speak, watching his expressions. She'd known he was Danny, a different, changed Danny, but still the boy she'd grown up with, been friends with. She'd known since that day a year ago, when he'd begged her to say his name…

But it hadn't really, truly sunk in. They'd looked and sounded so different then that she'd easily separated the two in her mind, but after yesterday, those distinctions were breaking down, and she was left with a strange and terrifying truth. This person in front of her, this was her Danny, too. They were _both Danny_.

"…fortune kind of like Vlad, except I'll put it to good use. I though you'd be really good at that, actually. Deciding how the money can best be used. If…assuming you'd be willing to…assuming that you could put up with me at least occasionally." Sam tried to absorb what he'd just said, having tuned out for the beginning. It sounded like he wanted to build a fortune, and then use the money to improve the world. She wasn't going to pretend it wasn't music to her ears. It had always steamed her how Vlad, with all his wealth, never seemed to do any _good_ with it…

She realized he was staring at her, waiting for her reaction, her approval, and suddenly she felt confused, and shaky. And a little afraid. This was all too much, too fast! So much had happened over the last day, first seeing Danny and the others again after so long, and now this…

Sam bit her lip and backed away a little. "This is…I…" She put her hand to her head, and wished she could just collapse, and forget everything for a little while. He was back. She'd hoped she'd never see him again, but now, if he really was _better_…but just a few years ago he'd tried to _kill_ them all! He could be mentally unstable for all she knew! Looking at his past, it seemed _unbelievable_ that he really wanted to make amends.

But then, this was Danny. She was finally looking at him and seeing the truth; that _he_ was her Danny too…

Sam could feel the tears falling slowly, gliding over her cheeks. It was the physical manifestation of all the stress, all the emotional train wrecks one after another in such a short period of time. The strain on her nerves had slowly torn her emotional barriers into tiny little bits…

Danny watched as Sam drew into herself, her face tight, eyes wide and screaming for some sort of escape. She was a wreck, worn down, miserable. Somehow he'd missed the bags under her eyes before, the tiny shake in her hands.

He whispered her name, almost to himself, as he watched the tears fall, feeling helpless. _He'd_ done this to her. He was responsible for all of this pain. Danny could feel his face twisting, crumpling, the sense of guilt was so strong, the need to _make things right_ so powerful, and he couldn't stop himself as he moved forward, wanting to comfort her, make it all better, even though a little voice in the back of his mind screamed that _he_ was the source of her pain…

Sam stood still as he came forward, not knowing what to do, only hoping that he wouldn't hurt her…_couldn't_ hurt her. And that he wouldn't hurt Nathaniel. That face…at least that face was no lie, that _look_ he'd had when he'd asked Nathaniel's name.

Danny fell to his knees and threw his arms around her waist, forgetting his self imposed promise not to touch her, and hugged her to him, his face pressed to her abdomen. He was probably incoherent, he knew, as he quietly begged her forgiveness, making and remaking his promises in sobbing supplication. She didn't have to _worry_, she was safe, he'd look _over_ her, he'd do whatever she wanted, he'd go _away_ even, but he'd make it up to her, he'd make it _up_ to her…

Sam let her hands drop carefully onto his shoulders as her own tears slowly stopped their silent descent. It was strange, but seeing him react so powerfully like this was calming her down. Maybe she had to be in control because he wasn't? She didn't know. But things were realigning themselves, somehow, and she found she believed what he said.

He grew silent after a little while, and they just stayed as they were. It was as if a pillow filled with emotions instead of feathers had just burst, and they were both waiting for it all to settle.

"Sam." It came out muffled, his face still pressed against her stomach.

"Yes?" It was barely a whisper.

"You're why…you're why I changed." His voice was calm again, serious, low, soft, and…beautiful, in its own way. "You saved me. I was lost, and you brought me back." He paused. "I don't…know if it means anything, but…you were my first." He let out a tiny laugh, and sniffled. "Well…my only, is what I mean." He tilted his head up a little, as if listening for her response. "You _do_ know what I mean…?"

"Yes." It was softly spoken this time. She sighed, looking at the wall a few feet away. So much pain and suffering…

He was silent for a little while. "I won't…Sam, I can't pretend I don't…_love_ you. There hasn't been a day this last year I haven't felt miserable, thinking about w…_what I did_, what happened. The guilt I've felt…." He stopped, his throat working, and closed his eyes, feeling a fresh set of tears squeeze out. "I don't deserve to be around you, I know, but I _will_ make things up. I _will_ build that fortune, for one. Everything I have will be yours, if you want it, Sam. I want to do good. After everything I've done…I _need_ to make amends."

He paused, his voice wobbling between a whisper and a gravelly, watery tone as his tears stole his voice. "If there was ever a way that I could…if I could be a tiny part of your life, even." He took a little gasp of breath, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "If I could see Nathaniel grow up, even as a…an uncle, or something, that would mean so _much_ to me…"

There was a crash as the door was torn open, and a moment later they were both violently ripped out of their thoughts.

* * *

_Author's note: The end. Bwahahahahaaaaa! Just kidding. Neeheehee. Again...if you've got to review just one chapter, please make it this one! I'm dying of anxiety. :) Well...not really. Um. Maybe a little bit, actually. Oo _

_Obviously lots has happened, and I'd love to hear your opinions. Does the soul thing freak you out, for instance? It's kind of been a very basic building block for the entire story...eheh. So. Thanks for reading! Hopefully you don't hate me:)_


	15. Retribution

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Author's Note: Warning, violence and a little bit of language ahead. I'm fairly certain it still falls cleanly under "T" however. **

**Also, special thanks to a certain someone (cough…family member…cough) who helped me bash this chapter into shape by being the harshest critic _ever_…in a good way. :) **

**Der Doppelgänger**_ ("The Spirit Double")_  
by Heinrich Heine  
Adapted for music by Franz Schubert

Still is the night, it quiets the streets down  
In that window my love would appear  
She's long since gone away from this town  
But this house where she lived still remains here.

A man stands here too, staring up into space  
And wrings his hands with the strength of his pain  
It chills me, when I behold his pale face  
For the moon shows me my own features again!

You spirit double, you specter with my face  
Why do you mock my love-pain so  
That tortured me here, here in this place  
So many nights, so long ago?

* * *

**Chapter 15: Retribution  
**

December 23rd

Even as his eyes were locked on the figure standing in the doorway, Danny's arms remained around Sam's waist, his cheek was still pressed close to her abdomen, and his mouth was open in an unfinished plea for understanding and forgiveness.

He'd been near tears an instant ago, croaking out his words, desperate and hopeful at the same time. These emotions were all still there, just arrested momentarily as he and Sam both stared at the newcomer.

It was…himself. Danny Fenton stood half-crouched in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob. He'd grown up, and was now more clearly his double than ever before.

The phantom was revealed inside his human half through the green light pouring from his eyes, and the strength of that light made his entire face strangely inhuman as the glow obscured his pupils completely. Danny recognized the overpowering fury in that gaze; it was a ghost's equivalent of seeing red, a state he'd been all too familiar with in the past.

Then the moment of shocked silence, in which everyone simply stared and took in the sudden change, passed. Danny closed his still open mouth, never to finish his previous sentence, and let his arms drop from Sam's waist even as her hands fell away from his shoulders.

His younger self was the first to speak. "_I'll kill you."_ It was a breathless gasp, barely audible, but the vehement promise, the agonized loathing in it was unmistakable. A second later he fully transformed, and things were thrown into fast motion as he flew forward screaming the death promise. "I"LL KILL YOU!"

Danny barely had time to stand up and push Sam out of the way before he was caught around the waist by his younger self and phased through the building.

Then he hesitated; this was the first time in his memory he could recall doing so in a fight, but even as he was thrown up into the air by his enraged doppelganger the impossible nature of the situation came clear. He'd taken an oath never to fight again; had just reaffirmed it in front of Sam, and now here he was facing a powerful opponent head on! How exactly did he avoid fighting back without getting beaten to a…

All thoughts were temporarily blown away as the ghostly wail ripped into him from below, tearing into his eardrums and tossing him up like a feather. After a few moments it stopped, and he took a defensive posture in mid-air, looking around for his younger double. There was no sign of him…

"K-hah!" Danny rocketed toward the ground, momentarily out of control after taking a hit on the head from behind. _Crud, crud, crud… _He spun further out of control as ecto-blasts hit him from above, and a moment later he crashed straight through a car, only just managing to go intangible as it exploded. He sank into the concrete below and floated there for a bit, trying to pull his thoughts together.

_How did he get behind me…? _Could his younger self teleport now? Or had he just moved really fast while he'd been recovering from the ghostly wail? In any case, the double attack had gotten him to focus on the fight; he needed to figure out how to deal with this, and now. Danny frowned darkly to himself as he gingerly felt the back of his head; it felt like someone had taken a nail gun to it.

One thing was certain; this was not going to be a repeat performance of the _last_ fight he'd had with him. His eyebrows shot up momentarily. _Does he have a Fenton thermos on him…?_ No, he'd been empty handed in the doorway to Sam's room. Danny blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it, and his jaw tightened as he thought about what to do.

There were two options: run away, or stay to confront his younger self…_without_ fighting back. But he knew that running away would be absolutely meaningless; besides, the very idea grated against his nerves. And above all, it wouldn't _prove_ anything in his younger self's eyes, except maybe that he was a coward. So he'd stay, try to get him to calm down, and hopefully…talk with him. He was hardly optimistic about how responsive he'd be, however; the kid seemed entirely too serious about wanting him dead.

He cautiously rose out of the ground, still invisible, and looked around. There was nothing; his younger self had probably gone invisible as well. Danny crossed his arms and grimaced. This was going to be tricky…and potentially painful.

A moment later, he jerked back slightly in surprise as his younger self phased in only a few feet away. He watched, eyes widening slightly, as the boy turned in jerky circles, looking around wildly, his fists clenched in frustration.

"Show yourself, you bastard!"

_Here goes_. "I'm here." Danny became visible as he spoke, watching as his younger self spotted him. He could see the shock literally jolt through his other self's body at their proximity, but he recovered almost instantly, coming at him again. His punches and kicks were wild, though, so Danny was able to dodge them easily; judging from his bright eyes and crazy attacks, the kid was still seeing red. When a hit came too close, Danny would simply phase out momentarily. Maybe just letting him run down for a bit would be a good idea…

But before long his younger self roared with frustration and then suddenly stopped, and Danny could see him literally reigning in his emotions. Apparently he'd finally realized that letting his anger blaze out of control wasn't helping him achieve his goal: namely, beating him senseless.

Then he was charging forward again, seemingly unaware or unconcerned that Danny hadn't attacked during the brief pause. This time the punches came closer; the attacks were more controlled and subsequently more dangerous, and Danny found himself phasing out more often.

Suddenly his younger self phased _with_ him as he punched at his stomach, and a hit connected. "Guh!" The nature of the fight changed immediately as it became a dangerous contest of instinct and reflex action as Danny was forced to think and move faster and faster to avoid the boy's phase shifts. Whether intangible or tangible, it didn't matter, if they were both in the same phase his younger self could make contact. Danny had to react nearly instantaneously to avoid being hit. Unfortunately, any slight advantage he had in terms of speed was curbed since he was always forced to _react_, never act, to _defend_ but never attack. This _wasn't_ a good thing…

"Argh…!" Danny grunted as his younger self managed to make contact with a fist to his stomach again, with a particularly fast phase shift. Grunting in pain, he was slow to react when an instant later he was grabbed by his arm and leg and violently thrown into a nearby building. He turned intangible to avoid the impact at the last moment, and instead passed safely through the wall into an office of some sort. He caught himself about twenty feet in, just in front of the receptionist's desk, which was thankfully empty.

This was _not_ going well. Danny tried to clamp down on his frustration as he turned back around, but getting hit in the gut and then thrown through a building was hardly enjoyable, damn it! He grimaced; his younger self was still too incensed to notice or care that he wasn't fighting back.

_Damn! _Danny grunted as a blast of ecto energy threw him into and through the desk. He caught himself in mid-air, and watched, hunched over slightly, as his adversary's disembodied face seeped through the wall, his burning hands visible a few feet below. The sight was strangely mesmerizing as the light played across they boy's murderous face; it was like a disturbing glance into his own dark past.

His younger self paused for an instant, still half in and half out of the building, and then came quickly through, speeding up to attack again. Danny immediately zipped through the ceiling and headed for the roof, intent on getting out.

Horrified shock radiated through him as he realized that the floors below him were disintegrating under the power of another ghostly wail; he hadn't considered the possibility that his younger self would actually take down a whole building just to get to him...then the shock wave caught up with him. Quickly, Danny curled into himself and created an ecto-shield around his body, riding the blast up and into the night sky.

He squinted down after it abated, ears ringing, and lowered his arms. He felt shaky and sick, and fought to remember if the floors he'd gone through had been empty; he thought that they had been.

A fire was spreading through the ruined building, and he could see his younger self in the middle of it, hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath, but even this high, Danny could still feel his malevolent glare.

He turned as his double started up toward him, and began accelerating away as fast as he could. He had to get out of the city. He needed to get them both as fast and as far away as possible. The boy was too angry to control himself, and in this densely populated…

Danny's eyes widened. _Sam_! What if that had been _Sam's_ apartment building, the fool! It wasn't, obviously; it had been an office building, but still they hadn't been that far away from her, and the idea that she could have been collateral damage…_arrg_! Danny made himself clamp down on the anger; he couldn't afford to get angry. But apparently his other self was willing to go through things, maybe even people, to get to him.

He was just starting to put on some speed when a fist came out of nowhere and caught him solidly in the left temple, and once again he was spiraling down, out of control. _Damn it all!_ He skidded as he hit an empty street, tearing up an asphalt trench thirty feet long. Shock and anger radiated through him. How had the boy gotten behind him?_ Of course_! Teleportation! How stupid of him to forget he might know it now!

Danny didn't have time to mull it over, however, as he heard a noise from behind, and he twisted around just in time to miss a kick aimed at his head. He instinctively caught the foot, only to let it go and phase out, temporarily invisible and intangible, in an attempt to gain a little distance.

Not fighting back was so…unnatural! He'd almost thrown his younger self then, almost raised his hand to send an ecto-blast to gain some time that way.

He clenched his fists as he floated there. He knew he _couldn't_ do that; wouldn't. The life he wanted, the promises he'd made; they would all _crumble_ if he did! The good habits he'd slowly started forming might be crushed, overpowered, and even if they weren't, any trust Sam might have in him would die, any chance for redemption in his other self's eyes would be lost…

"_Coward_! _COWAAARD_!" He looked up, startled out of his churning thoughts, to see his younger self turning in circles in the street as he screamed into the air, the muscles in his neck standing out. Danny watched, not sure what to do. His younger self was still so distraught, the idea that he could reason with him right now seemed ludicrous.

As if to prove his point, the boy continued to scream in fury, ghostly energy crackling around him. "_Damn_ you! I …," he grabbed a nearby lamp post in his rage, bending it down with both hands, "…am going…to _kill_ you!" A final yank had it snapped off at the base, and he threw it away from himself like a javelin as hard as he could, already turning in circles again as it hurtled through the air.

Danny watched in semi shock as it went through a building and kept going into _another_ building, like the gigantic makeshift spear it was. His younger self was acting like a mad man! The irony of this thought wasn't lost on him as he flew closer, still invisible.

"I don't want to _fight_ you…" His younger self swung around in an instant, firing off an ecto-blast that barely missed his head, and screamed again briefly when he realized Danny hadn't materialized himself. He threw another ecto-blast out randomly, and a moment later an explosion came from behind as something blew up, probably another car.

Obviously his younger self needed a target, and unfortunately _he_ was the most durable thing around at the moment. He became visible in order to get his attention. "_Stop_ it! You're destroying things!"

His younger self stared at him for a single moment, his eyes widening even further, then came at him, even more furious than before. "_RAAAAH!_" Maybe that hadn't been the best choice of words, considering his past?

Danny made the split second decision not to go intangible and to block the attacks instead, in the hopes that the rough contact would help to wear his younger self out sooner and maybe calm him down. He almost immediately regretted it, as the boy furiously kicked and punched at him as hard as he could.

He grunted in pain as a particularly hard kick connected with his shin, and suppressed a growl of frustration as his younger self redoubled his attacks. This _had_ to be hurting him too, but it only seemed to be making him angrier!

Suddenly the kid caught his forearm, having changed his last punch into a grab at the last instant. _Ah, shiii…_ "Guh!" The air was forced out of him as he took a knee to the gut, and even as he was doubling up in pain he was elbowed on the back of the head, right on the same tender spot as before; for an instant his vision was filled with a red haze.

Then he was being kicked repeatedly between the legs, and the world melted into pure agony; all he could do at first was scream silently as he crumpled into the fetal position, still in mid-air. Then he managed to turn intangible, knowing he _had to stop those kicks_, and forced his eyes up through the haze of pain, desperately tracking his younger self's motions.

The contest from earlier began again, as his double attempted to catch him in the same phase, and Danny knew that this time he couldn't afford to screw up. The pain, which was pulsing outward to his finger tips and back again, still had him stuck in a fetal position at present, suspended in mid-air, and thus more vulnerable than before. Unable to move, he was forced to watch his younger self like a hawk and avoid his attacks purely through phasing himself intangible and back again.

He recovered slowly as the dangerous dance continued, his teeth clenched tight in concentration, careful not to give away his recovery by changing positions. When he could move freely again he caught his younger self's foot during one of his kicks, getting him by surprise, and used it to throw him back a few meters. It wasn't an _attack_, he decided, just an attempt to gain time.

Then he was off like a rocket, his speed such that a small impact crater was left behind in his wake. He had to make it out of the city, fast! Then he'd have more options…

Danny could hear the scream of rage from behind, but he continued to accelerate, not giving him the chance to catch up this time. Soon a sonic boom resounded behind him as he passed the speed of sound, and another boom announced his younger self's pursuit. Danny pushed himself to go faster still, as the city sped by below him. The kid could keep up, he had no doubt; if he was fast enough to get through his defenses in close combat, then he was fast enough to match his speed.

Damn it. That had hurt like _hell_. This was so incredibly _hard_! Never, not even at age fourteen, had he _ever_ forced himself to not punch, to reign in a kick, to stop himself from bringing that familiar energy to his fingertips.

He'd briefly thought about simply forming a shield around himself in order to recover, but knew the obvious counter to that. His younger self would use another ghostly wail, and that would probably take out a city block, or ten, more likely. He'd gotten a lot stronger.

Yet going invisible for a while wasn't an option either! His other self would wreak havoc on the environment, his anger apparently too great to keep inside. Danny grimaced, that familiar guilt whipping through him briefly; now he knew what the Valerie from his time had had to deal with for so long.

Maybe this high speed flight would help wear him out some? Danny pushed himself even faster, and in a few moments another sonic boom exploded behind him. He did a double take as an answering boom matched his an instant later. His double was closer than he'd thought!

The terrain below was now filled with rocks, woods, and snow; they'd passed out of the city. Danny glanced around, trying to see exactly how close his other self was…

"AAAAG!" He was careening, screaming towards the earth like some sort of torpedo, blinded and dizzy. He'd gotten hit in the face with an ecto-blast, but the energy stayed stuck to his face, distorting his vision, and now he was spinning out of control as an unceasing barrage of ecto-blasts kept him from regaining stability, and for the first time that night real fear coursed through his body as the wind screamed in his ears…

_He couldn't hit the ground going this fast, it'd tear him to pieces!_

Danny turned intangible, and the shift wasn't a moment too soon as he felt himself drive into the ground. He slowly calmed back down; he was fine, he was _fine_. So his younger self really, truly, wanted to kill him; he could deal with that. He drew energy into his hands and pulled at the stuff on his face, dissipating it after a few moments, while slowing himself to a halt deep under the earth.

So, his other self had picked up another one of his attacks. Though, he _had_ seen it before, Danny realized, when he himself had used the same stuff to bind his family to the Nasty Burger and cover their mouths…he grimaced to himself. But the guilt didn't come; instead he simply felt shocked.

Maybe it _was_ a bit too much; the fact that his other self _really was_ trying to kill him. He cringed. When had he changed so much? Wasn't he still the goody-two-shoes kid from three years ago? It was one thing to _say_ you were going to kill someone; entirely something else to _do_ it. There was no doubt about his intentions though; if he had hit the ground going that speed…he'd be a smudge on the planet surface right now, nothing more.

After a moment Danny started the ascent back to the surface, thoughts whirling. He couldn't blame him. He'd probably be doing the same thing…actually, _exactly_ the same thing, because if they were sharing a soul and he'd been the one to have the semi-normal life and was stuck fighting _his_ evil future self, technically he'd behave exactly the same, right…? Or not? Danny started to rub the back of his head only to stop immediately as the sore spot protested, and put those thoughts aside. Now definitely wasn't the time.

He blinked as he finally rose out of the ground, invisible and intangible, and looked around for his other self. He was nowhere to be seen, though that didn't count for much. Deciding it was time to get a little more creative, Danny split himself four times and spread out.

He made one copy of himself visible, and started calling out. "Danny! Where are you? If you haven't noticed, I'm not fighting _back_! I've taken an oath! No more harm, no more fighting! It's over! Why else would I refuse…!" He stared as his other self became visible just a few feet in front of him. "…to fight back."

"Good for _you_." His younger self's nostrils flared as he came at him, face still furious. _In one ear and out the other! He wasn't listening._ Danny countered by going invisible while simultaneously revealing another copy of himself some distance away, and continued speaking.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong. I've been the ultimate fool! The most evil, manipulative, disgusting, violent, psychotic, _stupid_ person! I'd be attacking me too…" He was forced to phase out and move the one sided conversation to yet another double as his younger self started throwing ecto-blasts at him "I know where you're coming from, but you've got to _listen_, Danny." Using his name felt distinctly weird. "I know you want revenge, but when have you ever attacked someone who wasn't fighting back? Have I hit you once? Fired a single ecto-blast? I'm not the same person you fought before; I really hav.._uuh!_"

Even as his younger self stared at him from a distance, _another_ had appeared just in front of him to punch him in the stomach! Things became complicated as he defended against the punches and kicks of that copy. He brought another of his own copies to help, but as he became visible that one was immediately engaged as well by _another_ copy of his younger self! The boy had obviously mastered splitting his form.

His younger self looked distinctly frustrated though, since, strangely enough, they'd both thought to use the same technique at the same time. As such, neither had an advantage.

Danny knew what his other self was thinking. He'd thought it too on occasion; splitting your form was no fun when your opponent could do it too. It just made things confusing.

Then they all broke apart, and it almost felt choreographed as everyone who was still invisible appeared simultaneously. They were left staring, all eight of them, as silence descended momentarily. It was four against four, perfectly matched.

A surreal moment passed, and then again as if by some silent cue, they both drew their duplicates back together, making it once again one against one.

There was a long pause as they stared at each other, both floating a few yards apart, misty tail from the waist down, shoulders slumped forward, and arms dangling loose as they rested. His younger self was finally tired out somewhat; unfortunately, so was he. The strange mirroring of action and thought from a moment ago, though, probably had just as much to do with the temporary cease fire. It was just one of those things that made you take pause.

Danny knew this was the time to attempt a talk with his younger self, but instead he found himself staring, studying him, the strange moment bringing back Clockwork's words; that they were the same individual in two bodies, two minds. He was right; they weren't all that different. And physically, if you just changed the skin color, added the pointed ears, the fangs…he really _would_ be a mirror image. They were just like a ghost who had split himself temporarily…

He swallowed, shaking himself mentally; his other self wasn't attacking! He needed to use this time to try and get through that thick skull of his again. His gaze shifted subtly, taking in the emotions playing across the kid's face. He still looked angry, but a little tired and maybe a little confused, too. Other things were just below the surface, though. Disgust, sadness, a deep, deep pain, and frustration.

Danny smiled softly and sadly, and the guilt he was so familiar with came over him again. "I'm sorry. It's hard to believe, but I want to tell you that I…"

His younger self narrowed his eyes, cutting him off. "Stop it."

He blinked, caught by surprise. "Stop what?"

"Stop pretending you _care_! Stop playing like you don't want to fight anymore! It's all you did for ten years, and you expect me to believe you're suddenly different?"

"I'm not fighting back, am I? I've…"

"It's too late."

"What do you mean?"

"It's too _late_. You can't just come back and promise to be good! Stop pretending you feel bad for what you did! I see that look in your eyes! You think I'm going to fall for that…_act_? You tried to kill my family! You destroyed Amity Park in the future! You attacked _Sam_!" His face twisted more as he went on, fists clenched as he yelled at him. "And then you have the nerve to pretend you _care_!" He came forward then, grabbing Danny by the shoulders, hard, and shook him back and forth twice.

They stared at each other for a moment before he threw him backward and away, and Danny caught himself in mid-air a moment later, face tight, the guilt he was "playing at" still showing through a little.

His younger self was right; he had no reason to believe he'd changed. Danny remained silent, waiting to see what his younger self would do, and a few moments passed as they both fell to watching each other again. His younger self was silently fuming, and Danny didn't want to set him off again, but he also wanted to try and convince him, somehow…

"Clockwork let me out, you know."

"Heh! Right. Clockwork's _dead_. Don't lie."

Danny's eyes widened. "No, he isn't. I talked to him earlier tonight." Was that really earlier tonight…?

"I've searched for almost a _year_. You _killed_ him. Which is another reason why I don't believe a _word_ that comes out of your _mouth_!"

Danny looked up at the sky, momentarily at a loss for words. "Look…let me tell you something about Clockwork. He's _strong_. I couldn't touch him if I tried. He has _time_ on his side! Do you know what that means? He's faster than…" He paused, sighing. "He can be behind you before you even think about whatever it is he knows you are planning to do."

His younger self stared at him, eyes hard and unblinking. Danny went on. "I'm not sure why, but it sounds like he's just been avoiding you. And you _know_ if he doesn't want you to find him, you won't. All he has to do is hang out a hundred years in the future, after all." He paused, becoming more serious. "Danny, has there been any indication of chaos in the Ghost Zone, or in the human world?"

Silence was his only answer, but he thought he might've seen a glimmer of acceptance. No, there hadn't been anything especially nasty going on. His younger self had just said he'd been scouring the Ghost Zone for Clockwork after all, he should know…

"Why? _Why_ would he let you out? You're a _monster_."

"I'm…_you_."

His other self flinched. "I'm nothing like you. You're pure evil…you're half _Vlad_!"

"No. Listen, Clockwork was put in charge of looking after Danny…Phantom _and_ Fenton. I'm you; I'm just all Phantom. When I merged with Vlad…it's true I absorbed some of his looks…but we, he and I we didn't become one _person_. Our _souls_ didn't merge! I'm still all me, or…well, you."

"Stop saying that! What do you mean, _or me_? We're _two different people_!" The look in his younger self's eyes wasn't a good one, and Danny knew that he shouldn't continue, but somehow he _wanted_ his younger self to know…

"Yes, and no. Clockwork told me that a soul…a soul isn't affected by time or space. _Time_, or space. Do you understand? We have the same _soul_! We're literally two parts of the same person, with different memories, different habits, but essentially the same…," he was speeding up, somehow unable to stop now that he'd started, "that's why he couldn't leave me in the thermos, because you'd be trapped there too, when you merged _back_ with me after you eventually died someday. We're actually _destined_ to merge…" A sort of madness was coming over him, he was sure, as the words poured out of his mouth like molten lava, unstoppable, and he watched in slow motion as his other self came forward, insane with fury, denial, hatred, and loathing. His face was twisted into a mask of horror and fury, hardly recognizable, his eyes so bright green that he once again couldn't see the pupils…

Then Danny was being slammed against the ground, again and again, the shock keeping the pain from fully registering, his other self incoherent, screaming, his hands around his throat like a vice grip, digging deeply in.

An insane fury was fueling his younger self with supernormal strength, and Danny realized abstractly that right now he was too slow to get away, to phase out and avoid the blows, and the insane thought passed through his mind that he was killing _himself_.

And maybe it was appropriate? The memory of the destruction of his human self floated in front of his eyes, imposed on the raging beast of his younger self above him, and he couldn't help thinking that maybe this just might be the perfect end to his miserable life…

But then the pain finally started to register, and his instincts kicked in. He needed to get away!

Just then his double struck him in the face though, and Danny was momentarily stunned as the punch snapped his head to the side. Then his head was snapping back and forth as his younger self continued to hit him…he could feel his nose break, blood running everywhere, his lips cut, before he finally found the strength to reach up and grab his other self by both wrists. They were still for an instant, staring into each others eyes again, and time slowed down.

The pain he'd felt that day long ago, when he'd attacked his human half, was mirrored in his younger self's eyes, and Danny found himself falling into it, feeling what his other self felt, hearing what his other self was thinking…somehow, he was temporarily _inside his head… _

He was confused and furious, reeling in denial at what he'd been told, reeling in pain at the loss of Sam's innocence, her love, as he saw it, Danny realized…his younger self thought Sam _hated_ him now, since even though he hadn't attacked her personally he was still partially responsible. Danny could see the thought clear as day, and knew it wasn't his own, yet it _was_…

And Danny realized intuitively that things had been festering inside of his younger self ever since Sam had left, just as his family's deaths had sat in the pit of his own stomach all those years ago, growing over time into a violent urge to lash out at everything.

Then the moment was over, and Danny realized suddenly that he was hurting all over, bleeding, bruised, he had a few broken ribs, and a dozen other things were wrong…and he _knew_ that he didn't want to die like this. It would be the worst outcome, the worst for _both_ of them if his younger self killed him today.

Danny attempted to throw his younger self away, since he still held him by the wrists, but he was weak from the beating, and suddenly the tables were turned as his younger self overpowered him, twisting his left arm behind him.

**_Crack_**.

"AAAAAAAAAaaagggh!" The white hot pain radiated out from his newly broken elbow; it had happened so fast, and he hadn't thought his younger self would _do_ that…and now he was thrashing mindlessly because of the pain, too out of it to do something sensible like _phase out_...

His younger self kept twisting, the limb pulling further out of the joint, out of anything close to a normal shape, and the bone gave again, further up. "AAAAAAAAgaaghaaa!" The pain was paralyzing; his limb might as well have been torn off, but somehow it managed to get worse as it broke yet again; in the forearm this time. "GrughhAAAA!" Then he was sailing though the air, limp as a rag doll, having been kicked away by his younger self. He landed on the damaged arm, and his vision slid in and out of focus as it was crushed under his own weight. _He had to…get **away!**…_

But the shock had addled his brain and before he could do anything his other self had flown over and kicked him…in his broken, twisted, _excruciatingly _painful arm. Danny was screaming again, his voice forced out of his wind pipe into the most unnatural sound he'd ever heard, and he realized, in some sort of crazed, surreal daze, that his other self was screaming too, tears running down his face as he kicked him again and again.

And then he finally stopped, Danny crumpled into a heap of meat and bone on the ground as his other self put his foot on his shoulder, pushing slightly, and one last ghost of a scream escaped him. He was too hoarse to make sound, so only air came out, but the pain, the horrific anguish was still conveyed.

There was silence for a moment, as Danny wished he would just pass out, that the pain would just stop…_please_. But when the silence stretched to over a minute, his eyes were drawn slowly and fearfully up to his other self's face.

It no longer held the white hot fury from earlier. Instead it held confusion, intense pain, fear, disgust… Danny's own eyes widened in fear, and despite the physical pain, he felt himself tensing slightly, readying for a mad attempt at escape.

Something in this look was far worse than the fury from before, because he felt himself recognizing it. The memory of his own state of mind when he'd killed his human half rose in his mind, and he realized in horror that it was like a mirror, reflecting the same emotions now present in his younger self. Danny made himself look away as panic set in. _No! It couldn't end this way, the cycle would only begin again…_

He jerked in pain as he was drawn slowly up from the ground by the front of his jumpsuit, and his eyes involuntarily turned to his other self's again as he was drawn face to face, only inches away.

"_I should kill you_." It was whispered, his voice hoarse. "If there's one person in the world that deserves to die, it's _you_. I…_have_ to kill you." The terrible look in his eyes promised death, but…_not only for him_. Danny knew that look; he _knew_ the boy was only one step away from killing something precious inside _himself_ as well, from breaking the promise he'd made to his family and friends at the Nasty Burger to never turn into the monster he'd faced that day…

And Danny gathered up the last of his strength, knowing he couldn't let it happen. If he could just escape, give his other self time to take a few steps back and realize how close he'd been to the _brink_…

His younger self was shaking; tiny, jerking, involuntary movements that shuddered down his arms and into him. Then he finally threw him away one last time, and began gathering energy into his hands, his face desolate, the promise of death in his eyes, even as the pain and confusion and horror still played beneath the surface.

Danny didn't wait for the blow, doing what he'd been too addled to do earlier, and sank through the inviting earth, intangible and invisible, letting gravity pull him down.

Then he started searching for the familiar tingling that meant the Ghost Zone, as he felt his other self begin plowing through the earth nearby, hunting instinctively. Since they were both intangible, he could find him by touch, and the thought was terrifying, but this _couldn't_ be rushed…still, his eyes were wide in fright, his body crumpled and shaking, blood running over his face and into his eyes as he tried not to panic…

_There_. He finally found it, just as the fear and pain became almost too much to bear, and he used his good hand to open the weak spot, slipping through in the blink of an eye, his broken body responding clumsily to the commands of his frantic mind, until the hole was closed behind him and he had finally escaped from those terrifying green eyes.

* * *

Back in the human world, Danny slowly stopped his search, somehow sensing that his future self's presence had grown distant. He refused to question how he knew, unwilling and incapable just then of dealing with the things he'd been told.

He felt almost dead, his emotions strangely hollow and empty, and he floated silently immobile in the earth for a long while, still intangible and invisible. Then he slowly flew up and further into the countryside, wandering aimlessly. All he knew was that he had to stay away from the city. He felt ashamed of himself, and of his actions. Of his _other_ self's actions, since he was, he was…had once_ been_ him. And even if everything was a mess in his mind- about what he'd been told, what to believe and not believe, he knew that he couldn't face Sam, or Jazz and Tucker right now, not after what he'd done tonight.

* * *

Tucker was walking along the road toward Sam's apartment. It was bitterly cold, and he'd only managed to grab a coat before racing outside earlier that evening after Danny and his evil double. He took his hands out of his pockets to cup his frozen ears.

Sam had been determined to chase after them and stop the fight, but he and Jazz both knew a frantic Sam running after those two was an incredibly bad idea. Though honestly, Tucker didn't see how she could catch up, not when Danny could do _Mach 2_, for goodness sake.

Still, _one_ of them had had to go, if only to stop her from going and, with her luck, successfully exacerbating the situation. So Jazz had thrown him the Fenton thermos, even as she wrestled with Sam, verbally and physically, in an attempt to get her to see sense, and he'd gone off a moment later, knowing he didn't really stand a chance of stopping the fight.

Tucker sighed, thinking about the catastrophic chain of events leading up to his trudging around at this ungodly time of night.

He and Jazz had gone out for Chinese take-out and groceries earlier that evening, while Sam had stayed behind to get some sleep. Danny hadn't returned yet, so they'd only gotten dinner for three. They'd only been gone for about an hour, and upon returning they had entered quietly so as not to wake Sam.

It had been such a pleasant surprise to hear Sam and Danny talking quietly in the bedroom, and they'd hunkered down in the living room so as not to disturb them, thinking it was a stroke of luck that they'd entered so quietly. It had been wonderful, thinking that Danny had returned after disappearing for over twenty-four hours, which was more than long enough to make them all worry, and was finally talking things out with Sam. It had been a quiet conversation, just a murmur of voices, really.

Then…then _Danny_ had phased through the front door. They'd stared at him, dumbfounded, and he, Tucker, had pointed stupidly to Sam's bedroom door. "But you're in there…"

Tucker shook his head in mortification. It had clicked with them all at the same time. Danny's other self, the evil monster from the future, was _alone with Sam in her bedroom_. In retrospect, Tucker didn't know what he and Jazz would've been able to do to help Sam even if they _had_ realized, but it didn't change the fact that they'd been sitting there complacently while she had been trapped in the bedroom alone with him.

Danny had phased out into the night along with his evil self, before he and Jazz had even reached the bedroom door.

Tucker sighed as he climbed the stairs to Sam's apartment. Now it was really, really late, probably closer to really, really early, and he was dead on his feet, the adrenaline from earlier completely gone. He sighed as he came to the door and knocked.

The door opened to Jazz's worried face. "Anything?"

"No. Sorry." He slipped in and pulled off his coat. Sam came out of her room carrying Nathaniel.

"Nothing?"

"Nope. But I did go around to the local hospitals and a couple of emergency clinics. There aren't any…there's nothing unusual there, at least."

Jazz spoke up. "We've been listening to the news. A building was completely leveled just a few blocks away. Was it…?"

Tucker rubbed his face with his hands. _Oh yeah, that._ "Ghostly wail." It came out muffled. "I took off in the wrong direction and heard it from behind. By the time I got over there they were long gone, though."

Jazz frowned worriedly. "Any idea which one…?"

"I'd assume his evil self…"

Sam cut in. "No. It had to be Danny." She didn't look happy about it; her face was drawn and worried.

Tucker made his way over to the kitchen table, and sitting down, he put his head in his arms. "How do you figure that?"

She looked away. "He…promised. I mean, his future self." She looked embarrassed at her own words.

He looked up at her, grogginess falling away somewhat. "Say what? He _promised_? And you _believed_ him…?" His voice died out; he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the convoluted logic behind this.

She looked back at him after a moment, a little angry. "Look, Tucker, I know the situation, you don't!" She sighed, and added more softly, "It's just a gut feeling, okay? I'm almost sure he won't fight Danny. Hopefully he just…ran away." She didn't look like she thought he had, though; her face held no hope, only faded distress and sadness.

There was a moment of silence as Tucker tried to formulate the question on his mind without sounding like a jerk. "Sam…did he…what did you…?" No, he wasn't going there. He cleared his throat. "So he kind of flew in and told you he promised not to, you know, try to kill us all anymore…," he looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and failing, "Yeah. Woohoo, and now it's all better?"

He looked up at her sideways, propping his chin up on his forearms. He'd left so quickly earlier, he hadn't been sure exactly what had happened to Sam. He did remember the tears on her cheeks, though, and, well…Danny had been really, _really_ mad. A cold chill ran up Tucker's spine.

He glanced over to Jazz. She seemed watchful, ready to jump into the conversation if it went downhill.

Sam stared listlessly into space for a moment, obviously tired. "Actually Tucker, you're right…sort of." She raised her eyebrows, voice dull, and weary. "He said he swore to never fight again. That he's changed, and won't attack us…or anyone." She shook her head slowly, and looked over at him blearily. "He wants to make up for all the bad things he's done, give back to the world, that sort of thing."

They were all silent for a moment, and when Tucker glanced over at Jazz he couldn't help but notice that she didn't look surprised by this revelation. They'd probably talked earlier that night.

He didn't know what to say, really. There was a release of tension somewhere deep down, knowing that…it looked like the bastard hadn't _done_ anything to her this time. But beyond that, his mind was pretty much unresponsive. It didn't matter whether this last piece of information was important or insignificant, his brain was too dead to concentrate on it. So instead he just watched dully as Sam swayed slightly in place, looking equally dead on her feet.

"Okay, we're all really, really tired." That was Jazz, the voice of common sense. "It's time for sleep. Sam, here, I can take Nathaniel for a little bit." She walked over, and the infant, quite wide awake and chipper, was passed over to her. "If he needs to eat I'll wake you up, but I can baby sit for a few hours, okay?"

Sam nodded, making a slow beeline toward her room. "Jazz…thanks." She turned back for a moment, smiling softly, and something more seemed to pass between the two girls. Tucker looked away, feeling strangely depressed. Sam looked so sad.

He turned back to Jazz after Sam had left. "I can help some. You know, burping him and stuf…"

"No. Tucker, you sleep too. I'll be fine. I'm the least tired." Jazz wasted no time settling down in her makeshift bed, which was a sleeping bag cushioned with extra covers, as she spoke, and soon she was leaning up against the wall, Nathaniel in her lap. She pulled out a book, looked up at him, and smiled slightly. "_Sleep_."

Tucker didn't bother responding. He just smiled back wanly, and slumped over to his own pile of covers. As he drifted off, the thought occurred to him about how ironic it was, Danny fighting his future self the night he came to tell them he'd sworn off fighting. He wondered at that, and a touch of worry crept in. If he'd kept his promise, why wasn't Danny back by now…?

* * *

The forlorn figure floated in the depths of the ghost zone. He was beaten and bloodied, and his left arm hung at several unnatural angles. He was unconscious, almost comatose.

His face, even in sleep, was twisted slightly in pain, his blue skin paler than usual, and his body, upon closer inspection, was covered in bruises and cuts. He had two black eyes, a broken nose, and split lips. Someone had done a real number on him; he was hardly recognizable anymore.

Not that Vlad had any doubt about who it was. The insignia on his chest was a dead give away, in any case.

Plasmius carefully hooked an arm around the other ghost's waist, and started back home. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

_Author's Note: I got to this chapter and realized…I'd never written a fight scene before. Ouch. It's hard! I changed perspectives, scrapped pages and pages of work…anyway, this was very tough to write. So…hopefully you guys like it:) _

_Reviews, of course, are greatly appreciated! And weird comments! And flames, too, if you thought it was too violent…heheh, sorry about that. Er…which reminds me. Don't feel too sorry for Dark Danny. He deserved it! Especially the kicks to the groin. Sorry…(blushes). _**  
**


	16. Reunions

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Reunions**

There it was, as though it had never even gone. Its solidity mocked him, as though an entire building, an entire _island_ could simply disappear for months, then pop back into existence when its master felt so inclined.

It hadn't _really_ gone, of course. This place wasn't grounded in time like others were. It could travel a few hundred years away, instead of miles, and pop back instantaneously.

Danny continued to float a few hundred yards away from the strange island that was Clockwork's home, eyes glazed over from having stared at the somehow offensive place for several minutes now. Somewhere in his mind, he had known he'd find it here, but this was a tiny thought, one he was hardly conscious of thinking. But Danny had _known_ that this was the only place he could get any answers, that Clockwork was the only person who could tell him _why_ things had happened the way they had. Why his other self was loose, _why_ the Time Master had allowed him to go after Sam. The hope that maybe, somehow, there was an explanation, some _reason_ that he couldn't have stopped the monster from escaping.

On some level, he almost hoped he'd find the Time Master dead, or as close as he could get to it, or somehow trapped, incapacitated. It would confirm that everything that _monster_ had said was a lie, and would justify everything he himself had done…

Danny moved forward again, his dark thoughts mirroring the dark, lifeless space. It was a cold place. Strange mechanisms were built into the enormous building, and the clock faces, the intricate machinery, even the walls and the floors, everything, were all in the cold, dead colors of the ghost zone, giving the place its own unique chill.

Of course, everything in the ghost zone had something fundamentally wrong with it. That's just how the place worked. It was a deranged world for people who, on the whole, were equally deranged. But somehow, he'd never been bothered by the strangeness so much before, at least not in this particular place. Clockwork had been a friend, an infrequent but trusted advisor, ever since the fight with his other self.

Danny's mind backtracked suddenly; the fight from several _years_ ago, of course, not the fight from a few days ago. You couldn't call that a fight. Usually both people were _trying_ to attack... Danny swallowed, grimacing, and quickly shunted whatever stupid emotion he was feeling away, and though he refused to analyze it, that feeling couldn't _possibly_ be guilt. Maybe he'd done a few things he wasn't proud of, but he'd been pushed. He'd been pushed _hard._

A miserable frown settled on his face. _Nine months_ looking for Sam! _Nine months_ worrying, wondering, being depressed, and lonely, and angry, and a _thousand_ other horrible things, and then he'd _found_ her, only to have all his hopes and dreams smashed in front of him _again_. It was like some sort of sick cosmic joke.

He deserved answers. If Clockwork really was alive, then how had it happened? Why had he let _him_ out, when he'd promised, he _promised_…! He'd said things would be alright, hadn't he? How was this _all right!_

Danny shook himself out of his thoughts, and realized that he'd come to a stop in mid-air, fists clenched and jaw tight. He dropped his arms, forcing himself to relax, though he couldn't stop the angry twitch under his left eye. He continued forward, thoughts drifting back over the past few days as he went.

He'd flown aimlessly for hours and hours after the fight, and then he'd realized there was really only one place to be, that there was only one person who would have any answers for him. Danny hadn't set off for the ghost zone immediately, though. He'd made a very short stop back at Sam's apartment, to leave a note telling them to go back without him, that he'd get back on his own. The note had said that his future self was beaten and wouldn't be showing his face for a long while, so no worries. He'd left the note in Tucker's lap and had taken off, invisible and intangible, before understanding had had a chance to register on Tucker's face.

And now here he was, after having flown back home to use the ghost portal, tired and a little neurotic from lack of rest or food. Not that it mattered right now. His human form wouldn't be happy with him when he changed back, but his ghost form could handle the unusual wear and tear for a little longer, long enough to get some _answers_.

He reached Clockwork's inner sanctuary, or at least as far in as Danny had ever gone. The gateway to anytime and anyplace stared at him from across the large clock filled room. The rack filled with time medallions was off to the side. Clockwork was nowhere to be seen. Danny landed and walked toward the strange time portal, his eyes wandering aimlessly around the room, but as he drew near his gaze focused in on the powerful device, taking in the silent moving pictures.

It was like a movie, an old black and white one without any sound, except there was color, of course, and the scenes were more vibrant and clear than even the best super high definition plasma TV. Danny felt his jaw clench a little as a thought occurred to him. Is that what Clockwork thought his life was? Some kind of _movie_, and they were all pawns to be thrown anywhere he pleased? All the times he'd talked to Clockwork were coming back to him now, along with the confrontations he'd had before he'd realized that Clockwork was on his side…

But when had he _ever_ told him he was on his side? He'd only said "Things were how they were supposed to be" and other meaningless crap like that! That could mean anything! Things were how _Clockwork_ wanted them to be, or maybe things were good for _most_ people, which didn't necessarily include Danny or his family.

Somehow this thought made him more nervous than angry. He'd spent so much time being angry lately, that the emotion could only fizzle where it had once burned. All his emotions were like that right now. All the lighter emotions were practically absent, and the negative emotions were faint, damp and twisted; painful echoes of what he'd felt before. The last few days had been predominated by a hollow sadness coupled with the driving need to find some truth, some sort of explanation for all the madness. Danny knew this dull, comparatively peaceful state, which was only occasionally punctualized by a stronger emotion, wouldn't last. His mind was just putting off dealing with everything, and had gone into energy conservation mode while his subconscious whittled away at all the huge emotional shocks he'd been through lately.

This relative lack of emotion was good, though. It gave him the focus to get questions answered, without all the overpowering impulses getting in the way. Danny turned away from the Master of Time's personal silver screen, moving in a slow circle, and called out.

"Clockwor…!" Lo and behold, there he _was_, only meters behind him, watching silently! Danny closed his mouth; obviously the time master was alive after all. "How long have you been…," he narrowed his eyes, "floating over there?" He crossed his arms, even as his jaw clenched again. Maybe he did have a _little_ anger left.

"Not long." Clockwork stayed where he was, strangely still. The ghost sounded calm as always, though the subtle impishness Danny sometimes thought he could hear in his voice seemed absent.

"You let him out."

"Yes." Silence stretched between them as Danny took in his answer. His confession. Yet Clockwork didn't look upset, or embarrassed, or…sad or sorry, or anything! It was _infuriating_.

He started over. "You…_let him out_. And he went and…," if he'd been human at the moment his face would have been turning red, "he _forced_ himself on my best friend. But _you_ only stepped in when he came over to _tell_ me about it!" He ran his hands through his hair, amazed that somehow instead of fiery anger his strongest emotion was a deep wounded anguish. He wanted to shout "H_ow could you?" _but he had the horrible feeling that it would have no effect.

"Then…then you let him out _again_! And where does he go? _Back to Sam_!" Danny's eyes widened. _Wait a second._ "How did he even _find_ her, Clockwork? Did you _lead_ him there? Did you set this _up_?" A horrible thought occurred to him, clawing and chewing at the open hole where his heart used to be. "Did you…did you _watch _what he did, Clockwork? Did you watch him when he…? You didn't stop him; you just looked through your little _mirror_…" Danny buried his hands in his face, his throat clenching and unclenching with mortification, and tried to hold back the tears suddenly springing up. He was horrified. He had been betrayed. In a way it was worse than the anger he'd felt for his other self. It went deeper. He'd _trusted_ Clockwork.

"Tell me I'm _wrong_," he mumbled, his voice sounding like he'd suddenly caught a head cold. "Tell me you didn't _let_ that happen. Tell me he attacked you, knocked you out…anything, except…" But Danny knew that he wouldn't. Even if he had been knocked out, he could have rewound time, gone back to before his other self had even escaped. _Faster than fast_, isn't that what he was?And then the words that he really wanted to say were finally ripped out of him. "_How could you!_ How could you _do_ this to me? To _her?" I thought you cared! I thought you were on my side!_

Clockwork didn't answer, though for the first time he might have looked just a little sad. That wasn't _enough_, though. "Answer me! I deserve to know what the _hell_ kind of sick game you are playing at? We are not chess pieces, damn it! _We're_ _human beings_!" Danny finally walked forward, placing himself only a few feet away from the other ghost, in the vague hope of intimidating him. He waited, fists unconsciously clenched, hoping to hear something that would make sense of things, some explanation, _anything_…

Clockwork took his furious stare head on, never wavering. And Danny found himself searching Clockwork's face for something to prove that he was wrong: for guilt, for anger, or regret. But he only found a subtle sadness submerged under the calmness that the ghost always seemed to drape around himself like a cloak. And Danny couldn't stop the thought as their gazes remained locked, one wild-eyed and desperate, the other eerily calm: How long had this ghost _existed_ to have reached this level of calmness?

After a moment Danny felt something else rise through his confused mind, through the horrible feeling of betrayal; a feeble hope. Perhaps, if Clockwork was so calm, there really _was_ something Danny wasn't getting, something that would make everything right again?

The calmness was almost entrancing, and that combined with the powerful sense of purpose and confidence the Master of Time exuded seemed to slow Danny down, coaxing his teeth to unclench slightly and his hands to relax. Somehow, without even speaking, Clockwork had calmed him down. And his eyes told him that Danny could ask questions, but that he couldn't demand answers, and shouldn't try.

A few more moments of silence passed, and then the Time Master spoke, "I see many things, Danny, many possible futures, many possible pasts. I see small details, as well as huge sweeping historical panoramas. Time is a tapestry shimmering and shifting with what-ifs, whens and maybes; might-have-been actions affecting may-have-been futures. There are darker and lighter paths, which can color the different parts of the tapestry pristine blue, or blood red, depending on how different details are changed.

"I am charged with observing, but also assimilating and understanding what I see, and, every so often, _acting_ on what I see. The observers hate to admit it, but I am a step above them, that infinite, most important step above, as I always have been and always will be." Clockwork paused, and then slowly floated over to the time portal. "A time line is a contradiction in terms, Danny, an oxymoron. In any given moment, things could go thousands of different ways for any given individual. When taking in the entire world, there are an infinite number of possible futures and pasts. Some of these possibilities are very strong; they call out to me. Others are faint, like mere phantasms floating in my subconscious mind. I don't make them, but I _can_ reach out and quietly nudge one into the spotlight. I can choose from a handful of the most powerful possibilities, the most _positive_, Danny, and one of those will be the one which comes into _being_.

"It's a subtle thing. I won't pretend it doesn't have some similarities to a chess game. It does. In a way it exercises very similar parts of the mind, provided you have a mind that is many, many times larger than any human's. This _isn't_ a game, however, and life can't be handled in a purely cold, surgical, or _objective_ manner. This is where I differ from the Observers, Danny. I have a sense of intuition that guides my hand, and ultimately I am much more connected to the world and to the people in it. And sometimes that connection is to individuals, and their families and friends, when that person or people shine strongly enough in the changing kaleidoscope of the future." He stopped, looking at Danny meaningfully. "_You_, Danny. _Your_ family. _Your_ friends. You are one of those people that shape history. And so I have taken incredible care, searching, twisting and turning time to find the best solution, the best outcome, and…"

"Pain and suffering are _good_ things, then? That's going to make the world a better place?" Danny felt his mouth twisting as the pain surfaced.

"As compared to what, Danny? The loss of your family and friends?" There was a tense pause as Danny remembered back to a few years ago, how he'd felt when he thought that he'd lost them all, if only for a split second. But _still_, this wasn't the same situation!

Clockwork went on. "Perhaps the death of one would be preferable to the temporary suffering of another? Jazz could've died instead."

Something tore loose deep inside of Danny. "Are you _threatening_ me? Are you telling me to go away or you 'll make things _worse_?" His hands bunched back into fists as he spoke, his voice a hiss of outrage.

"_Of course not_." Clockwork's voice harbored no room for doubt. It was firm, and admonishing. He softened a moment later. "Of course not, Danny. But I only have so many threads to work with, so many possibilities to choose from. Only a handful are truly strong futures; the rest flitter away in an exponentially expanding radius of unlikelihood. I nudge, I don't bulldoze. Some things, in the long run, _have_ to happen. I am forced to choose a balance between what is best for the many, and best for the few. I wish pain on no one. It is my duty to guide and encourage the future to unfold into as much beautiful blue, and as little blood red, as I possibly can. I was simply telling you of my job, and that there were choices, other possibilities, that had presented themselves to me in this case."

Danny's voice was angry and desperate. "So you chose this, because somehow everything would be wonderful somewhere down the _road_? You couldn't just leave him in the thermos like you _said_ you would? You couldn't let Sam stay in Amity and be a normal high school girl? Wouldn't that have saved everything? No evil future self, no needless pain…"

"There would have been pain, Danny, his pain, and eventually, your pain as well." Clockworks eyes glittered strangely, his expression suddenly a little more watchful.

Danny recoiled as though he'd been slapped. He'd come here asking for answers, wanting an explanation, but he'd carefully buried _certain things_. Part of the conversation he'd had with his future self had been one of them; some of the things the monster had told him. But somehow he'd assumed, as irrational as it was, that whatever Clockwork said would have _nothing_ whatever to do with _that_.

The other ghost continued after a moment, voice quiet and slow. If it wasn't for that permeating calmness it would have been the voice of a doctor attempting to calm down a troubled patient afraid of the looming needle in the background. "I know he talked to you, tried to tell you things he should've had the sense to keep to himself. You'd almost think he _wanted_ to get beaten up." Clockwork smirked slightly, the most lighthearted gesture he'd made yet. It fell away quickly. "You two are clearly not the same person. You have different memories, different paths you've walked, and different _personalities_, Danny." Danny felt the tension melting away at these words. The needle had been put back in the cupboard. _Yes, of course, that bastard had been _lying;_ he'd known it all along… _

The Time Master's voice cut through his jumbled thoughts. "But then, when you split yourself using your parents' technology a few years ago, the ghost and human half had distinct personalities as well, if you recall."

Danny stared at him wide-eyed, the tension he felt a moment ago redoubling, even as a sick feeling started manifesting in his gut. Suddenly the syringe was back, only a few inches away, and the nurse was rubbing the alcohol on his arm. _No…_

"What do you think would have happened if you'd stayed separate, Danny? After a year, or several years? Do you think the two people you would've become would still have been willing to merge back together again?" He paused as this sank in for Danny. "Probably not. It's hard for a person to let go of what they know, what they're familiar with. The idea of true change, especially of yourself, is very frightening to most people."

Danny finally found his voice, though it wobbled and was laced with dread. "Then you're telling me…," he faltered, unable to voice what had quickly become his worst fear. "Just make exactly clear what you _mean_, Clockwork!"

"You know what I mean." Clockwork's eyes trapped him, and his intense gaze felt as though it was staring into his soul. "He wasn't lying. When you die, you won't move _on_, Danny. And the same is true for him while you are still alive."

Danny took a step backward, his eyes wide. There was a strange rushing in his ears, though Clockwork's words were still damnably loud and clear. "He would continue to live through _you_. There are two bodies housing the same soul, and when one vessel is destroyed, that indestructible soul will simply exist in its entirety in the other vessel. I _couldn't_ keep him, Danny. I never had a choice."

The rushing became louder as the meaning behind his words tried to sink in, tried to twist their way into Danny's heart. He took another step back, as if in self-defense, as Clockwork continued on, voice still calm, seemingly oblivious to the effect his words were having on him, or else too determined to continue to let it stop him. "Or, perhaps I should say that leaving him in the thermos wasn't a choice I could realistically consider. Temporary storage was the best I could do. A few more years in there, and he would've started going mad. As I said, his pain would eventually be _your_ pain as well."

Danny panicked. This wasn't real, this couldn't be happening, it was a bad dream, a horrible nightmare…he had to wake up! He changed back to his human form suddenly, a spasmodic gesture to change anything, everything, to escape from his own ghostly half, and almost immediately fell back onto the ground with a thump as he tried to step back on wobbling, desperately weak legs.

Danny found himself pushing back with his hands and feet, crawling away from Clockwork, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, and his vision turning strangely grey around the edges. He was getting tunnel vision. I_ can't…I can't faint! Not here… _"Shuh…heh…heh…," his breaths rasped, though he was almost deaf to the sound, the roaring in his ears overpowering everything else, "_…you're wrong…you're wrong…_" He wasn't that _thing_, he wasn't _responsible_, and he would never join bodies with him, the one who did _that _to Sam, _never, never_, **_never_**…

He fell forward as the tears came, fists beating softly on the ground, his gasps turning into a single long moan. _No…no…no…no…no…! _And then the panic finally took its toll, or perhaps he just wasn't breathing….and Danny passed out.

Clockwork stared down at the boy for a few moments, and the sad look from earlier once again passed over his features, stronger this time. He knew what had needed to be done, he _knew_ this was the best path…but perhaps he felt a hint of regret, nonetheless.

* * *

Danny woke in his bed, feeling rested but strangely sad and a little weak. He'd had this horrible nightmare. It had seemed so _real_. He knew it wasn't, though, since he'd done things in it that he would _never_ do in real life. He thought back over it, thoughts still groggy as he struggled out of sleep. His…other self had come back, and he'd fought him, but everything had been _wrong_…and then he'd gone to see Clockwork, which had somehow been worse. He'd told him something horrible…

The door opened suddenly, and Danny locked eyes with Jazz. She looked worried, and a little angry, almost manic, like when there was a particularly nasty ghost attack. Why was she so stressed out…? Slowly his eyes widened as they stared at one another, and then she turned and yelled over her shoulder, even as nightmare and reality tried to sort themselves out in his mind.

"He's just tired! He's turning in early!" She turned back around, speaking quietly. "We just got home. I told them you'd already slipped in. Good thing you're back. You can get your stuff from the RV later." She paused, jaw tight. "They…know Sam's back." She gave a tiny sigh, and suddenly looked very tired, then gave him a tight, sad little smile. "We'll talk tomorrow, early." She closed the door with a snap.

Danny stared at the door for a moment, then slowly curled onto his side and cried himself back to sleep.

* * *

He was floating in a warm, comfortable cocoon, balancing on the verge of wakefulness and sleep, at that point where the body is still part thought and part reality. His senses, like hearing and smell, were still mostly dormant, and he only had a vague hint as to how he lay, or what position his arms and legs were in. For him, this moment was luxurious, a tiny window of bliss, and he wanted to hold onto it a bit longer. It was one of the most ephemeral things about life, because soon the body would wake up fully, the memories would all come flying back, and then that beautiful, peaceful feeling would be lost…

Danny gave a tiny start, and rewound his thoughts a little as he began to wake up. Things came rushing back to him; the broken nose, ribs…_arm_, and how they'd gotten that way. He'd been lucky to escape that fight with his life. But he'd been drifting somewhere in the Ghost Zone, hadn't he? He'd been too weak to do much else…

But this was clearly the human world, and he was, somehow, relatively comfortable. Danny carefully moved a little, testing his body, and found that he was lying flat on a soft surface. _Fine, good…wait, not good._ His freedom of motion was also greatly restricted, and some areas of his body seemed disturbingly numb. Where _was_ he...? After a moment he cautiously opened his eyes and squinted at his surroundings. Although the place was dimly lit, it was still too bright for his eyes. He was in a bed, as he'd suspected, and his lower right leg was raised up in some sort of cast, as was his entire left arm. His face, now that he was more awake, felt tight and sore. It was probably quite swollen.

A strange feeling of déjà vu stole over Danny as his eyes adjusted to the light and things came into focus. The texture of the ceiling, the paintings on the walls, even the bed he was in; it was all achingly familiar. He'd _been_ here before. As his mind reached back, trying to grasp at why this place was familiar, the door opened. Vlad Masters walked in, cup of tea and a book in hand, and made his way to a chair to the right of his bed. As he sat he glanced up toward Danny, as if to briefly ascertain that he was still asleep, and their eyes met.

The only thing that kept the strange, horribly sad nostalgia from registering on Danny's face was the fact that he was still half asleep, and his emotions, along with his body, were half dormant. Vlad being here like this, sitting in that armchair, watching over him; it was all a powerful reminder of that part of his childhood that he had spent with Vlad.

He'd caught the man by surprise however, if the look on his face was anything to go by, and Danny briefly wondered how long he'd been here, asleep.

He cleared his throat experimentally, and broke the silence. "Vlad."

"Daniel." Vlad responded promptly, already over his initial surprise at seeing him awake, and turned to put what he held down on the little table next to his chair. There was silence for a moment, before Danny realized the strangeness of being addressed by his first name. The strangeness of Vlad _knowing_ to call him that.

Vlad smiled slightly. "You're quite a mess, you know." He raised an eyebrow, a sardonic edge to his voice. "You really shouldn't beat yourself_ up_ like that." Danny resisted rolling his eyes even as a sense of uneasiness stole over him. That was Vlad for you; dropping hints about what he knew or that he had guessed with a lame joke. After a moment Vlad's smile changed into a thoughtful expression, and he looked down, studying his fingernails. "A thank you would be appropriate, I think."

"Thank you." There was no hesitation. He meant it more than Vlad could ever know. It was strange, having so much history with him that the man knew nothing about, and for a moment Danny felt sad again. This wasn't _his_ Vlad. This wasn't the Vlad who had tried so hard to help him break through his haze of depression. This wasn't the man who had helped feed him, who'd made sure he didn't drown in the bath by sheer personal neglect, the man who'd made him move around, made him leave his room and go outside to keep his muscles from atrophying. The man who'd tried to single handedly make up for the loss of a father, a mother, a sister, and two best friends.

Yet Danny knew _this_ Vlad would have done those things for him, too. Strangely, this meant that he probably saw things in him that no one else, perhaps even Vlad himself, could see.

Danny sighed and looked away, up at the all too familiar ceiling. In all honestly, he would really prefer a different room; this one was already doing strange things to him.

"How did you find me?"

"Wouldn't it be better to ask, my boy, how I knew to look in the first place?"

Danny began drawing pictures in the textured ceiling with his eyes. "I'm hardly a boy anymore." He paused, a strange thought occurring to him. "In fact, we're only…" he paused to work out the math, "thirteen years apart, since you had your birthday last month. We could be brothers." He smiled sadly at the hidden irony; they were closer than brothers, in a way.

There was a silence in which Danny could almost hear Vlad digesting his words. "So you're twenty-seven, which would be ten years older than your younger self? And I suppose _Jack_ told you my birthday?"

Danny snorted softly. Vlad always needed everything to have an explanation, didn't he? "No. Someone else told me. A friend." He smiled a little, knowing that Vlad had to be incredibly curious by now. But the mildly happy feeling was quickly overpowered by a deep sadness, a terrible regret. _Vlad_ had been the one to tell him his birthday, of course. November 14, 1967. He'd been his best friend, once. But after all Vlad had done for him through that dark year, Danny had ultimately betrayed that trust. He closed his eyes suddenly, brows crumpling as he tried to reign in the suddenly powerful emotions. _Damn_ this room. He really did _hate_ it.

"Vlad?" His voice came out ever so gently, a soft plea for help. "Can you move me into another room? We can talk all day long in there." For a moment, he was his fourteen year old self again.

"I…if you wish." Danny could hear the question in Vlad's words, waiting to be voiced. "Is there something wrong with this one?"

Danny caught his eyes, knowing that Vlad would understand best though a look. "Just memories. Bad memories." The words weren't much, but the feeling behind them, mirrored in his eyes was powerful enough to pierce through any resistance.

And of course, Danny knew that Vlad's sometimes cold exterior was easier to pierce than most people realized. "If it means that much to you, of course, my dear boy." Vlad immediately looked a little confused, as though he hadn't meant to say that but it had come out anyway. But in less than an hour Danny was settled as comfortably as possible in a thoroughly different room.

After all, he'd already spent an entire year of hell in the other one.

* * *

Vlad had to bring a chair and table into the new room, but before long he was situated with his ever present tea cupped in his hands, re-warming it with a little carefully controlled ecto-energy. It was something Danny had seen him do on countless occasions, and watching it again was strangely comforting. He idly wondered how long it would take for this strange feeling of nostalgia to pass. He had to remember, after all, that _this_ Vlad had no memories of that year, and that he needed to stay on guard.

Being drugged with painkillers (which explained the numbness in various places, like his arm) and weak as a kitten would make it rather difficult to really protect himself, of course. Danny shrugged mentally. He probably didn't need to be worried, really. Vlad was manipulative by nature, and could sometimes be very cruel, but seeing as how he'd taken the time to make him quite comfortable, Danny was willing to bet he was relatively safe for now. And if he played his cards right, he could hopefully stay that way.

He pursed his lips, and started the conversation back up. "So…how _did_ you know to look for me in the Ghost Zone?"

Vlad chuckled. "I never said I'd answer the question, only that it was a good one to ask." He paused. "Tell me, what are things like seven years from now?"

Danny looked up at the ceiling, face carefully blank. This ceiling was smooth, painted a pale blue, as opposed to the rougher off-white of the other room. He automatically liked it better. "Well, that future doesn't exist anymore, so that question's moot."

"How do you know that?"

Danny frowned, brow furrowed. "How did you know I was from the future in the _first_ place?" He shifted a little, and added with a smirk, "Tell you what, how about we go back and forth? You ask _me_ something, I ask _you_ something. Deal?"

Vlad stared at him for a moment, face darkening slightly. He obviously didn't like his attitude. "I've had a professional attend to all of your wounds- a _ghost_ doctor, mind you- I've had you cleaned up, and have tried my best to make you as comfortable as possible. I even _completely_ indulged you just now by granting your request to be moved to another room, though for what reason I'm still not entirely sure! At this point, I feel I've earned the right to get a few answers from you without having to finagle for them."

Danny's smirk didn't waver. "And yet _here_ we are…finagling." He played over the word slowly, enjoying the funny sound. "And I already told you, that future doesn't exist anyw…"

"_Why_ then, Daniel? Why did it change? And why have _you_ changed so much?" Vlad's eyes were burning with intensity. He was done playing games; he wanted answers, now.

Danny looked away, frowning, feeling a little aggravated. Did the man really think he could brow beat him into telling his life story? "How do you even know who I _am_? I could just be some random ghost!" He wished irritably that he could cross his arms.

There was silence for a long moment. Then Vlad answered, his voice once again subdued. "Approximately nine months ago Samantha Manson came to me for ghost hunting weapons." Danny's eyes widened a little, and he turned his head further away so as to hide his expressions from Vlad. _Sam!_ She'd gone to _Vlad_?

"She wouldn't tell me why she needed them, or why she couldn't go to the Fentons. As such, I kept an eye on her. It was…quite a _shock_ when I realized she was pregnant some time later." A slightly sharp note came into his voice, and Danny had to fight hard not to cringe. "I helped her after that, made sure she had enough money, a decent place to live, a good doctor. She wasn't aware of my help, of course. But I felt sorry for the girl. She'd clearly run away from home out of shame, after discovering, most likely, that she'd become pregnant after being attacked by some lowlife, hormonally driven _Neanderthal_." He paused, letting the disgust in his voice sink in for a moment. Danny squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his stomach twisted in tight little knots, glad that he was still looking away.

Vlad continued on, voice light again. "Or so I thought. When the baby was born, I kept a closer eye on them for a while, to make certain things were going smoothly. You can imagine my surprise when I realized the child was a halfa! Samantha, of course, was at her wit's end, trying to care for an infant who could literally sink through the floor at any instant." Vlad paused for a moment, presumably thinking about the complexities of raising a halfa child, and Danny waited, tensed, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I knew I had to step in at that point. I had previously let her make her own decisions over those long months leading up to the birth. She deserved that; she's a very strong person. I had thought that, if she wanted to rough it on her own, so be it, it wasn't my place to interfere. I would simply look after her in little ways, as a favor to dear Daniel- the Daniel from _this_ time, of course- since she was his best friend, and hopefully she would find the courage to one day return home."

Vlad sighed. "But when I realized the child was a halfa, I knew she would need very particular ghost equipment, and so I made her a few useful items as soon as I could. Then I met with her." He paused, as if considering what to say next. "Naturally, I had to tell her I knew of her situation, since a ghost proof playpen, for instance, could hardly materialize in front of her without questions being asked." Danny's eyes widened a little. The pen! That's why he hadn't been able to phase through it…

When Vlad continued his voice was a little rougher, a little more emotional. Danny was very tempted to look over. He was _faking_, right? He had to be! "It was incredible, that conversation. She was…she was under _so_ much pressure, you see. Living on her own for so long, going through a pregnancy and a birth she could scarcely predict the success of. So when I came to her, she may have been a little more forthcoming than I had expected. Or perhaps it was all the help I had already given her, who knows? But she _told_ me of her attacker, Daniel. That he was from the future, that he was full ghost. Who he was, or _used_ to be." Vlad paused, and Danny couldn't help cringing. _And here it comes…_

When he remained silent, though, Danny hesitantly looked back over. It was what Vlad seemed to be waiting for, because he immediately added, "Of course, one only has to see the child in ghost form to see the resemblance."

Danny did a double take, shame temporarily forgotten. "What does he look like?" The game was up even as the words left his mouth, of course, and Danny looked away at Vlad's poorly masked smirk of triumph.

"_He_, Daniel? I don't believe I ever mentioned the child's gender."

Danny threw caution to the wind. He had to get an answer. "What does Nathaniel look like in ghost mode, Vlad?"

Vlad didn't blink an eye at the name. "Will you answer my questions with no more complaints?"

"Yes, fine." _Probably._

"Well…," he paused again, and gazed into space as if picturing the child in his mind's eye. "His skin is very pale blue, paler than yours, and he has pointed ears. His hair is white, though it doesn't…," he raised an eyebrow at him bemusedly, "_flame_ like yours does. Of course, there isn't very much of it yet, in either form." He pursed his lips, a hand going to his chin. "Whether his teeth will be pointed is anyone's guess since they're just coming in. But his eyes, interestingly, are green, not red. The color yours _used_ to be, then." Vlad looked over at him expectantly, clearly finished with the description. "Well! Now it's _my_ turn, I believe! First question: why don't you look exactly like Daniel's ghost half? Why the red eyes, and so on?"

_Ouch_. _Time to stall_. "Eh…maybe I lied about answering questions." Danny spoke in a lazy drawl. "You know Vlad," he raised his eyebrows and grinned, "you're really quite gullible for an evil villain."

Vlad's bristled, leaning forward angrily. "You insolent…!" Then he seemed to get control of himself, and sat back again with an air of disdain. "How very _adolescent_, Daniel, calling me an 'evil villain.' I find it hard to believe we're only thirteen years apart. You obviously haven't matured over time."

Danny pursed his lips, and looked back up at the ceiling. "Nope. Not really." He glanced sideways in time to catch Vlad bristle again, and get it under control, again.

Vlad grimaced, eyes narrowed. His voice was suddenly cold. "There is more than one way for me to get answers, Daniel. Don't force me to…"

"Threatening me isn't going to get you on my good side." There was a moment of tense silence, and then Danny finally backed down. Vlad did deserve some information; it was true, if only for fishing him out of the ghost zone and saving him considerable pain.

He blew out a long breath of air, suddenly a little nervous. "Vlad…what did Sam tell you about me? About how I became who I am?" This was a delicate topic, since he wasn't too keen on telling Vlad about his own little "contribution" to his ghost form, so to speak.

Vlad frowned, still looking annoyed. "She said there was an accident that resulted in the splitting of your ghost and human halves. And she said that you…" he looked away, his face strangely devoid of emotion, "killed your human self. She claimed she didn't know why you look so different, however."

So she hadn't mentioned Vlad's ghost half at all. Danny could feel a little tension melt away. "I'll just…rewind a little." He paused, and added stoically, "This is _not_ a happy story." He sighed, his mind wandering reluctantly back to the event that had triggered all the eventual mayhem.

"The Nasty Burger in Amity Park _exploded_ when I was fourteen. Doesn't sound particularly important, right? But that's where _my_ time line diverged from this one. So. It killed people. My…family, Sam, Tucker. _Me_, if it wasn't for my ghost powers. Guess who…," he swallowed, "guess who took me in?" He half smiled, that ironic kind of smile people make when they're trying not to grimace, or cry.

Vlad's eyes were wide. "I suppose…_I_ would understand you better than anyone else, wouldn't I?" Vlad's mind was still stumbling over the thought of everyone dead, of _Maddie_ dead. Samantha hadn't mentioned this at all. Maybe she didn't know?

"Yes." Danny's eyes wandered the ceiling. They were searching, by habit, for the crevices and lines he'd once spent long hours tracing little pictures onto. But this ceiling was smooth, uncontoured. "I stayed here for about a year. That room I woke up in was mine, which is why I wanted to move, incidentally." He paused, and the next words came out in choppy sentences; the bare bones so he could get it out fast and then bury it deep down again. "Things got bad. I became more depressed over time, to the point where I wasn't functioning anymore. You helped." His voice cracked a little, and the powerful urge to tell Vlad how _much_ he'd done, how hard he'd tried to help him heal rose up suddenly. Danny squelched it. Not here, _not_ now. He was just going to get through the basics, and bury this.

"And then I found out about something. You…,"_ keep the two separate, Danny, it'll make things easier,_ "your _future self_ had been working on ghost stuff as usual, and you…_he'd_ tell me about it, try to get me interested. There was an _experiment_, a device that could pull a ghost from a human. Stop someone from being possessed. But on a halfa…" He looked in Vlad's general direction, not really meeting his eyes, and raised his eyebrows.

"It would split you in two…?"

"Yes. So that's how it happened. You took a _lot_ of convincing. I did and said some horrible things before you agreed." _Like threatening to kill myself._

"But why would you…" Vlad's voice dropped off. _How could splitting yourself like this have **helped** you?_ He couldn't help notice that Daniel had almost immediately dropped back into referring to him directly. 'You', not 'him' or 'your future self'.

Danny rolled his eyes. "I wasn't rational. I never said I was thinking _rationally_." He frowned deeply. "Like I said, I'd got you talking about it. And I asked about what would happen if you used it on a halfa, and you'd had a theory already cooked up that maybe different things, maybe even different _emotions_, would go to each half." He looked over plaintively, suddenly wishing Vlad could understand what this had _meant_ to him at the time. "Somehow the idea of even one half of me being free from the pain, it became this _amazing hope_." He paused for a moment, and looked away again, his voice losing the intensity from a moment ago. "I think you only agreed because I was so obsessed with it." He paused, thinking back to the last few days before the split. "And maybe…I think you maybe had a way to put me back together. I think you thought I'd be split apart, and then I'd realize it didn't really _help_…" He stared up at the ceiling, the horrible memories after the split playing in front of his mind's eye. _You were so wrong, Vlad. It didn't help, but it **did** hurt. _He shook himself. "Then, you know," he gave a half hearted chuckle, "you probably thought that after I saw the error of my ways you would put me back again."

"I must've been truly desperate."

Danny locked eyes with him for a moment. "_Believe_ me, you were. And you felt bad for me." He swallowed, dropping his gaze. "And…a little ashamed. That you couldn't help me more, by just…" _By just being you, and being there for me._ Danny looked off to the other side of the room, feeling particularly miserable. He _really_ didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Vlad cleared his throat after a moment. "So you were split in two. Did something…go wrong?" _Did something happen that might explain why, **how** you could kill your human half?_

"I have no clue if it went perfectly. It _worked_, obviously, but it hurt like hell."

"Was this when you…?" There was a moment's silence as Vlad's unspoken question found its answer in Danny's eyes. _Yeah, you're on the right track, Vlad_. _This is when I **killed** me_. Vlad's distressed frown was genuine. "But _why_?"

Danny snorted softly, suddenly tempted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, of his life. "Survivor's guilt? I _hated_ myself for living, naturally." Danny realized it was true. He _had_ hated himself. But strangely, he hadn't thought about it much before now, and he was pretty sure that it didn't really play into why he'd attacked his human self. But he had to give Vlad something, he knew, and it had to be unrelated to the merge with Vlad's ghost half. "It was complicated. I think…the entire time I lived with you I never transformed once. And I wasn't angry. It never came out until _that day_, when I was…" _literally torn in half. _"I think it's still one of the most painful experiences I've ever had, and that's _saying_ something." He nodded toward his left arm to illustrate the point, and sighed. Vlad still looked a little shell shocked. "Look, right afterwards, I wasn't right in the head. I don't remember everything that happened. I was _filled_ with rage- I had a _year_ of anger to make up for. So I took it out on my human self."

"But…" Vlad paused, realizing that digging at this, however much it grated at his nerves, wouldn't change the horrible facts; Daniel, the ghost, had _killed_ his human half. So he moved on instead. "What happened to me? I was there with you, wasn't I? And why do you look different? Is this when your form changed?" He wasn't about to share any of his theories on the subject, but he'd be very surprised if Daniel said yes to the last question.

Danny swallowed, and looked back up at the ceiling, the safe, never changing ceiling. "Actually, I think I looked different immediately." Vlad suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow as Danny spoke. "Right after the split. Couldn't say why. Maybe because for the first time it was only my ghost half, with no human in the mix?" Danny shrugged lopsidedly, hoping that Vlad couldn't prove that he was lying about this. "As for you…I think I pretty much left you alone, although I did some damage to the mansion. Things are a little hazy, though." _Actually, I blew it up, and you, only human, were damn lucky to survive._

"And afterwards?"

"Like I said, I was kinda crazy for a little while. I started wreaking havoc, blowing things up, terrorizing ghosts and humans alike….all that good stuff. And somehow I just…never stopped." He smirked, trying to lighten the sudden pang of depression he felt, and added, "I was quite the crazed up fr…" _Oh, crud._ "…uit loop." He cleared his throat, hoping that Vlad wouldn't notice anything.

A brief sense of shock ran through Vlad as he stared at Daniel's profile. Thankfully, he was looking away, and couldn't see the momentary look of horror on Vlad's face. But the obvious lies, the missing pieces in Daniel's story, coupled with his own theory about merging with other ghosts…it suddenly made perfect sense. Vlad swallowed, seeing the ghost in front of him in an entirely new light. But he pushed down the shock. He couldn't _think_ about this now! _Never_ let a person know what cards you're holding. He hastened to pick up the conversation again.

"But the story's only half told, because here you are, in the past."

Danny felt the tension leave him as they moved on to a safer subject. "Yeah, I don't suppose Sam told you how I got here?" _Hopefully not._ Though he didn't see how Vlad could mess with Clockwork in any case, or if he would even try, for that matter.

"She said another ghost, I think by the name of Clockwork, had helped you to travel back in time."

_Oh_. "Er, yeah, sort of. He's a strange one. I wouldn't say he exactly wanted me to go back in time…" _I wouldn't say he didn't want me to, either._

"I see." _I see._ Danny frowned slightly. What did that mean, exactly?

It was time for another question of his own. "So are you going to tell me how you found me floating in the Ghost Zone? And _don't_ tell me it was a coincidence."

Vlad leaned back, frowning thoughtfully, and proceeded to spin his biggest tale yet. "Samantha was _concerned_." The word held a lot of meaning. It could mean mildly perturbed, or it could mean frantic with worry, either one. It made Danny's heart skip a beat, in any case. Vlad glanced down at his right hand, inspecting the nails. "She called me, told me there was a fight between you and, ah…your younger self. She seemed worried, strangely enough, that you wouldn't fight _back_." Vlad pursed his lips, a mild look of incredulity on his face. He looked back up with his eyes alone, narrowing them slightly as though contemplating an interesting conundrum. "And it appears she was right." He sighed. "So, I guessed that you'd probably go to the Ghost Zone to get away from Daniel, and thus I went to look there first, along with a few ghosts who work for me. So now here we are!"

Danny hardly heard the last few sentences. The important part was that Sam had been _worried_ for him. She'd wanted to make sure he was safe! He felt like jumping for joy, and turned his head away to hide his involuntary grin from Vlad. He shouldn't feel this happy, but he _did_, he was overjoyed, because if she'd done that for him, then maybe she'd forgiven him…

His grin fell into an easy smirk. "I _see_." Vlad had probably lied about _something_, actually, but that wasn't important right now. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he looked back around quickly. "You've told her you _found_ me, right?" Leave it to Vlad to put something like that off.

He nodded slightly. "She knows you survived, and that's all she really needed to hear, I think." The next sentence came out delicately. "I don't know that she actually wanted to _speak_ with you, Daniel." Vlad looked down at his hands, which were clasped, and twiddled his thumbs a little. "Well, that's probably enough information for now, don't you think? I suggest you try to take a nap, since you'll need to stay horizontal for _at least_ another week." He stood up, stretching a little. "If you need something, just ring for Louise. He's…"

"The cook. I know." They locked eyes. Vlad looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment.

"Yes. Well...I've got things to do, so ta." He left, book and cold tea in hand, closing the door behind him. Danny, with nothing else to do, dosed off some time later.

* * *

Vlad made his way quickly down to the lab, while his mind flew in circles, attempting to assimilate the conversation. He'd learned a lot just now. Not everything, by far, but a lot more than he had hoped for, nevertheless

Samantha hadn't called him, of course. Daniel had certainly been touched at the thought, though. Vlad almost felt guilty. Almost. He could hardly tell the boy…_oh, butter biscuits_. He was hardly a boy anymore. Man, ghost…_whatever_ he was. He could hardly tell him that he had Samantha under 24/7 video surveillance, and that his information had come from that. It just wouldn't sit well, to put it mildly. And of course, everything else he'd said had been altered a titch. The real reason why he'd been looking after Sam, and what she had, and hadn't told him. He had been going out on a bit of a limb when he'd fished for information about this Clockwork person, but it had paid off. He'd guessed right, and Daniel hadn't suspected that he'd been guessing.

Vlad made his way to his computer and sat down. Clockwork wasn't important right now, though. There was something much more pressing. After a moment of searching he brought up a folder labeled VP, for Vlad Plasmius. He clicked into it and was met with another layer of folders.

They all had to do with his ghost form. He had been his _own_ guinea pig for years, and had tested the differences between his ghostly body and human body extensively. He'd studied how his various powers worked, how quickly his ghost form could heal, what was different on a molecular level between his ghostly blood and human blood, and hundreds of other little things.

He'd studied the DNA extensively; had an entire _army_ of files devoted to the differences between his ghost and human DNA. Vlad located the file VPBW, short for Vlad Plasmius Blood Work, and began running a comparison between that and another file, located in a different set of folders, that he'd acquired much more recently. The separate DNA tests had already been run, and this was simply the data from those tests, so the scan itself, a simple comparison of results, only took a moment.

He stared at the screen for a moment after the program had run.

He'd guessed _right_. He'd found Daniel's altered DNA. The front of his mind moved forward quickly, running through exactly what this entailed, even as another part deeper down reeled from surprise and a little horror. This meant many things, his mind told him. This meant that Daniel, at fifteen, had somehow absorbed Vlad Plasmius into his own ghost form, that Vlad's ghost and human halves had to have been separated for this to occur, which in turn meant…what? Had he performed the absurd splitting experiment on _himself_ as well? Perhaps Daniel had had something to do with it? He couldn't be sure what Daniel had left out of the story, but he'd said he, the other Vlad, _had_ been desperate. But he couldn't imagine willingly going through a procedure like that.

He shuddered as his emotions came to the fore. He wasn't sure what, or _who_, this future Daniel truly _was_ anymore, and his mind was rebelling against a disturbing possibility…

But after a moment his indefatigable logic rallied. No, the boy…_man_…didn't have any obvious… Vlad rubbed his forehead in exasperation. _He doesn't **act** like me! He's not clever enough, for one._ Really, his personality didn't seem too far off from this time period's Daniel. _He certainly hasn't gained much, if any knowledge of my theories about how ghosts merge, or he would have _known_ the lie about how his ghost form had "just changed" would be _obvious_ for me to see through._

So that was settled. This Daniel may have some of his physical features, but he was in _no way_ some distorted version of himself. Daniel considered himself to be Daniel Fenton, or Phantom, at least, and had all the memories of his family and friends, all the fondness for Samantha and presumably the others, and none of Vlad's own memories or inclinations, so far as he could see. Somehow this was an incredible relief, and for once he didn't want to analyze why.

Besides, there were other things, _better_ things this bizarre accident in genealogy indicated. Nathaniel was partly _his son_. True, it was a small part, but the fact was he was related to the boy in a freakish sort of way, and somehow this gave him a deep feeling of satisfaction. The boy would be his, true, but in a way the boy was _already_ his and always would be.

That brought up Samantha, of course. Had she…what _exactly_ did she know? Vlad shifted in his chair uncomfortably as he let that thought develop. It was somewhat distressing to think that, by making a claim on the boy he would also be taking partial responsibility for what Dark Daniel had…Vlad swallowed. That was, that he would be partially responsible for everything the girl had been through. But that was ridiculous. He hardly had anything to do with _that_! Still, the doubt lingered, the tiny thought that perhaps his ghost half had been instrumental in Daniel's insanity, in his sudden violence and "villainous" behavior. Dark Daniel had called himself a crazed up fruit loop, after all, the much hated phrase the boy always associated with _him_. But there were some things Vlad would never do. Assaulting a woman was one of them. But then the Daniel _he_ knew would _never_…

Vlad pushed the disturbing thought aside. It didn't matter. He didn't know this new Daniel very well, but he knew _himself_. That was enough.

With that uncertainty banished from his mind (though the freakishness of discovering the true origins of Dark Daniel would continue to float at the back of his mind for some time) Vlad turned his attention back to his favorite subject: Nathaniel. All his plans had been uprooted by the unlikely appearance of Daniel and friends, and new plans needed to be made.

* * *

_Author's Note: Please review, cookies for all who do! Also, I'm sorry for the wait. I've actually rellocated my computer (the clunker that it is) into another room, and have spent quite some time (me and my Mom, that is) getting the space ready. (Painting, putting down laminade -fake wood flooring- and stuff like that. It's a little office now!) Plus I was really sick for about a week. (And I got to experience vertigo first hand, woohoo. Uuuuugh. )_

_Other stuff- for those of you who haven't checked out my oneshot Double Vision (found by clicking on my name, which will take you to my profile :D) it might give you a little insight into this story. There's no need to review it (though of course I wouldn't mind!), but if you want another tiny theory of mine, which'll shed some light on this story, then check it out._


	17. Home Again

**Catalyst**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Home Again**

Sam stood at the front door of her parents' house, her thumb hovering over the doorbell. Jazz had dropped her off a few minutes before after wishing her good luck. Not surprisingly, actually pushing the doorbell was more than a little scary for her, even though the setting sun meant that it was growing darker and colder by the moment. How would they react after not seeing her for months? Sam leaned forward furtively, listening for sounds from within, and could just hear faint conversation coming from the dining room.

Sam juggled Nathaniel from her right hip to the left, and let out a soft sigh. She should've fished her baby backpack out of her bag when she'd had the chance. But then, standing nervously outside her own front door hadn't technically been part of the plan. She let out another sigh after a moment, and finally mustered her courage. A soft _ding dong_ chimed from inside the house as her thumb came down on the bell. _Alright, too late to change your mind now…_

After a moment the door opened, and her father stared owlishly out at her. "May I help you…"

"Dad." He stopped and stared. She smiled up at him timidly, brow furrowing as her eyes turned glassy with unshed tears. His eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Sweetheart!" He stepped forward after one stunned moment, hugging her to him with all the shocked relief and pain of losing and then finding a loved one. He turned almost immediately to yell out, his voice rough and excited. "Pamela! Mother! Come here! Sam's back! Sam's _home_!"

There was a mad rush from the dining room, and before long Sam was surrounded by her family. Her mother had pushed her father aside and was hugging her convulsively, patting and smoothing her hair repeatedly, then moving back to look at her, only to step forward for another embrace, all the while saying her name over and over, along with every loving endearment she'd ever used. And for once Sam didn't mind.

They were all crying. Her grandmother, who sat several feet away in her wheelchair, looked older than she could ever remember. There were two lines of tears running down her cheeks as she too mumbled her name in astonished relief.

After a few minutes they all calmed down a little, and at her father's suggestion they moved into the living room, dinner temporarily forgotten. Nathaniel was beginning to wake up from his nap as they sat down, and Sam, in typical motherly fashion, repositioned him a little so that he might stay asleep a little longer.

"Sammykins…is he yours?" The terrifying question came from her mother.

Sam bit her lip and looked down at her baby, all her fears of rejection and of being shamed by her parents rising up. She'd had a baby out of wedlock at age seventeen. How could they _possibly_ be happy with that? Her voice was a whisper. "Yes. His name's Nathaniel."

Her mother's hand came up, and started stroking her daughter's hair again, rhythmically, like she had whenever Sam was little and feeling sad or had gotten a boo-boo. Sam's tears started afresh as all those times she'd wished she could've been home, safe, with her mother looking over her came back up in her mind. But she found she couldn't look up. She was too intensely ashamed, as though this situation was her fault, even though she knew it wasn't.

"You dyed your hair." Her mother's voice was lighter; she'd taken a moment to calm herself down. But the pain and worry was just underneath. She sniffled a little, and gave a watery smile.

Sam didn't really meet her eyes, and half smiled down at Nathaniel instead. "Yeah."

"It's pretty like this! And I've never seen you put it up like this before." It was in a low ponytail.

"It's fast." She found herself mimicking her mother, slowly stroking Nathaniel's tuft of hair. Her mom suddenly moved forward again, hugging her from the side.

"_Sweetheart_…" Her voice was soft and wobbly, weak from emotion, and she stayed like that for a long time. No one spoke. Then she pulled back, facing her as fully as she could on the couch. "Sweetheart, I want you to tell me what happen…"

"Pam, I think it's time for bed. We can talk about this in the morning." That was her dad, ever protective. Her mother looked at him from around Sam, eyes wide. They were sitting on either side.

"This is _important_, and it's only eight o'clock." Her voice was serious, and firm. She was worried sick, had been for the last nine months, and she _needed_ a few answers.

"I just think Sam must be tired, and it might be better for all of us if we get some rest first, dear."

Sam spoke up, quietly in favor. "Yeah, I've been on the road for the last three days, and I'd love to get some real sleep, Mom."

"On the road? Where were you staying? How did you get back?" Her mother jumped in before her dad could say anything, but he seemed just as curious to know now that the questions were being asked.

Thankfully, these were easily answerable. "I was living in Idaho in an apartment. And…the Fentons and Tucker were on a road trip to Colorado, and they ran into me in the grocery store. They dropped everything and…drove me home." She paused. "It's kind of amazing they found me. Apparently Danny just really wanted to stop at the market I was in." She couldn't keep the tiny smile from her voice. After everything she'd been through, it was still incredibly heart warming to think that he'd been able to find her, somehow had _sensed_ her, even across several states.

"Sweetheart," her mother's voice was soft, worried. "We've been so worried, and I need to know…"

"Honey…" Her dad cut in again, only to be but off by her mother.

"_Dear_." Her mother glared at him for a moment, wishing him into silence. Then she turned back to Sam. "I need to know why you went away, sweetheart. Is it because of the baby? Were you embarrassed? Sammykins…" She took both her hands in her own, her eyes searching her face, though Sam's own gaze remained glued on the top of Nathaniel's head. "Were you…," her voice wobbled, "sweetheart, w-who's the daddy?" Her mother gave a pathetic sniffle, and Sam fought hard against crying more herself.

Her voice came out in a whisper. "I don't want to talk about it." She bit her lip again, sniffling herself, and couldn't keep a little panic out of her voice as she stood up. "I'm _really_ tired, Mom, I just…I'm really tired, I need sleep, okay?" She swallowed a few times, looking and feeling apologetic, and then turned back to the front door to get her stuff.

Her dad came around her and got it for her. "I'll take it up, sweetheart." She nodded silently, her gaze on his feet, and followed him slowly up the stairs. Her mother stayed at the foot of the stairs, nervous and uncertain. When Sam was at the top she called up to her.

"Do you need help with the baby?" She hurried up after her. "I can watch over him tonight, if you want, Samantha."

Sam turned half away, thinking fast. "N-no, that's okay. Besides, he's going to get hungry soon."

Her mother fretted a little, looking from her to the baby. "Oh, of…of course." She paused, looking down at her feet. "Well, if you need me in the night for anything…" She swallowed, then stepped forward to hug her again, tears suddenly streaming down her face all over again, her voice overwhelmed with emotion. "Samantha…I missed you so much, darling, my sweet little girl…sweetheart…I love you _so much_…" She pulled back, holding her face in both hands tenderly. "Don't _ever_ forget that. Your father and I love you _more than anything in the world no matter what_." She moved one hand to the small of Sam's back, turned toward Sam's room, and gave her a lovely, if very damp, smile. "I'll help you get settled in."

Sam didn't protest; she _couldn't_. It felt like her throat had tightened to the point where speaking was impossible in any case. She looked around the room, at all the old familiar things, as her mother bustled around turning on lights and opening the windows to air the room out. They'd kept everything just the same, hadn't they? They'd even kept the space dust free for her, and left her "tasteless" Goth jewelry on her dresser, which had been the subject of so many arguments. The thought occurred to her that, even with some disagreements; okay, a _lot_ of disagreements, when it came down to it she still had a really great family. She blinked a few time, getting rid of the sudden wetness at the edges of her eyes.

Sam looked down at Nathaniel, still feeling a little overwhelmed, and began stroking his fuzzy head again. After a moment a tiny smile began to softly light up her face. Things would never be the same, but she was definitely, finally, home.

* * *

Danny lay in bed, gaze turned toward his window. It was still dark out, with only the first hint of a sunrise on the horizon. He'd been awake for maybe an hour already, worrying dully about the impending conversation with his sister, the one she'd told him last night they'd be having today, "early." The pain in his mind welled up for a moment as he recalled that for one brief moment, just before she'd dropped in last night after returning from Idaho and had dragged him back into reality, he'd thought the last several days had been some incredibly bad nightmare…

_If only._

Actually, he'd worked it out after waking up this morning, and even though it seemed as though he'd seen Clockwork only yesterday, it must've been longer. He'd taken about a day getting from Idaho to Clockwork's, after all, while Jazz and company must've taken three getting home, which meant that the Time Master had taken him forward at least two days in time. Either that, or he'd taken one ridiculously long nap before Clockwork dropped him off back home. Danny pursed his lips, and would've smirked if his life wasn't so screwed up at the moment. _Definitely _time travel, then.

Danny sighed softly to himself, his gaze shifting from the window to wander aimlessly around his room. His mind was incredibly muddled. He found it hard to concentrate on any specific event from the past several days. Instead, it had become a sort of nightmarish blur during which Bad Things had happened and would continue to wreak havoc with his life. But what those bad things _were_ wasn't something his mind was allowing him to focus on. It was too much, too fast, and he wasn't capable of dealing with it all, at least not yet. He was still weighed down by the physical shock from the fight, his nerves raw, and his body was fatigued from his insane flight to Clockwork's from Idaho. Then there was the emotional pain. He felt damaged, as if the events of the last few days had left an aching pit in his chest, almost like a physical wound; one he couldn't see and didn't know how to fix. He could only hope it would heal in time, as other emotional wounds had.

But for now things weren't right inside. And Sam was close to the center of the pain. A dull ache would arise whenever he thought of her. Suddenly the person he'd been obsessed over for the past nine months had become forbidden territory, and it was pure torture. She'd been in his thoughts so much over those months that it wasn't something he could just stop doing at a moments notice. But now every thought of her brought such pain! He didn't know how he'd _deal_ with her, how he could look at her, even _speak_ to her as if nothing was wrong!

A terrible sense of shame was slowly growing in him, and she was _in_ that feeling, somewhere close to the heart of it. Yet what had happened to Sam _wasn't his fault_, right? Danny closed his eyes, bringing a hand up to cover them for a moment. Then why the guilt? Why, after worrying and going half crazy looking for her for so long, did he have to find her _like this_? Was it really fair that he had to feel so damn guilty? And there were things…_things_ Clockwork had said, and his…_evil self_ had said that he couldn't deal with right now, maybe never would deal with. _Clockwork, you bastard!_ Somehow he hated the time lord more than his other monstrous self right now. He'd be fine if he never saw either of them again as long as he lived. But Sam, linked as she was to the horrible mess, was here and now, only a few streets away, and couldn't be banished so easily from his thoughts, or his life.

He knew it would be hard to avoid talking about her with Jazz, which was why he'd been up for so long worrying about this conversation. She would want to know about the past few days. And she'd want to talk about Sam. He wasn't _ready_ to talk about Sam. And what could he really _tell_ her about the last few days? The answer seemed to be not much. He wasn't even sure he wanted to confess where he'd been. She might go searching for answers from Clockwork herself, and that thought was mortifying.

A soft knock sounded on his door, and his slightly morbid thoughts stopped as his heart leapt into his throat. He frowned, calming back down, and took a deep breath while closing his eyes, resigning himself to an interrogation. "Come in."

Jazz entered, closing the door behind her, and pulled up the desk chair to sit next to the bed. She turned it backward, straddling it so as to sit with her chin propped on the back. She seemed to be trying to stay quiet, as all of her movements were very careful. Their parents were probably still asleep, then. "Hey." She chewed her lip a little, and gave him a subdued smile. She looked tired, but strangely relaxed. Danny realized suddenly that she'd probably been very worried during the trip back, not knowing where he had gone, or when and, for a little bit, even _if_ he'd return.

He smiled back at her, comforted by her concern, and propped his pillow up so his head was tilted more toward her. "Hey," he whispered softly. "So…are you here to give me therapy or something?" The question surprised them both a little. He hadn't planned to say that at all.

Jazz looked off to the left, frowning thoughtfully, and responded in a soft, low voice. "If that's what you need, then yeah. But I also thought we should get our story straight about the last few days."

"Not much to get straight. We ran into Sam on the way to Colorado, so canceled the rest of the trip and brought her back. And I was with you the whole time."

"Well, _yes_. But where were you really the last three days, Danny? You didn't say in the letter you left us in Idaho. And what exactly happened between you and…" she paused frowning, "let's just call him Nad, to avoid confusion? Your name reversed…" She stopped, confused, at Danny's wide eyed stare.

"No. That's just wrong."

"W-what? What's so bad about…"

Danny looked up at the ceiling, and suddenly felt like laughing for the first time in days. Trust Jazz to know the inner workings of the brain while being oblivious about rather common slang. British slang, but still slang. "Add an 'S' to the end. Sound familiar?"

"You mean…nads?" He put his hand over his eyes so she couldn't see them rolling. She pursed her lips. "I'm still not getting it."

He snorted, and slid his hand down to his mouth to cover the brief smile. "If you haven't figured it out, then I'm not going to explain it to you. But trust me, that's just _wrong_." He sighed, seriousness descending again. "How about…" He stopped himself from suggesting the name "monster." Somehow he couldn't bear everyone calling the monst…calling his other self that, not now. "Let's just call him Dan. You almost always call me Danny anyway."

Jazz stared at him for a moment, looking very serious. "Okay. So what does nads mean?" _What?_ Danny groaned and put both hands to his face, turning on his side to face away from her. He knew she was frowning.

He couldn't resist. "You'll find out when you're older."

He smirked at her indignation. "What! Come on! Danny, I'm _older_ than _you_!" She paused, and added, "It _can't_ be that bad."

He was kind of enjoying this. "Ask Sam. She knows." He flinched half a second later.

He'd said it without thinking. Sam had been the one to tell him, after all. He let out a long sigh, and slowly turned back around, the humor dying away at the mention of her name.

He let out a long sigh. "It's just British slang for where you knee a guy in a dark alley, Jazz. If you catch my drift." It wasn't funny anymore.

"Ah." Silence descended, the British word practically forgotten.

The muddled, painful, mortifying problem that was his life had suddenly descended again, and Danny literally felt his emotions draw back into themselves in self defense. Had he actually felt like laughing a moment ago? It seemed impossible.

Jazz locked eyes with him for a few moments, frowning slightly. "So. About Sam." She looked down, whetting her lips in a nervous gesture. "She and I talked a little on the way back, about what to tell her parents."

There was a long pause before he asked the obvious question. "What did you decide?"

She sighed, looking back up. "We didn't. I don't think she's going to tell them anything, really. Hopefully they'll just be happy to have their daughter back, and they'll let her open up when she's ready."

"She'll never be ready. _They'll_ never be ready." He looked at the ceiling. His plain white ceiling. He suddenly wished it had some sort of texture to it, so he could draw faces and pictures in it, but he almost immediately knew it would be the ultimate practice in torturous monotony. Somehow he felt he'd already traced the lines of another ceiling a thousand times before.

Jazz cut through his peculiar thoughts. "They may _have_ to be ready. Nathaniel could change at any time. I saw him do it once on the way back." Danny's throat went dry at these words, and he swallowed a few times to moisten it again.

"What…did he look like?" He wanted to know, but really _didn't_ want to at the same time. But then, he really _did_. He looked over at Jazz in trepidation.

"He has your eyes…" She looked down at her hands, embarrassed. "And your hair, too." She looked back up tentatively.

Danny felt a strange fluttering feeling deep down. Maybe the kid didn't look like his other self that much? Maybe not at all? What would that mean? But he instinctively knew not to focus on that line of reasoning. "So what else? Fangs? Forked tongue?" He scowled.

"No. But he's…got his ears, and the skin, sort of. It's lighter blue. Danny, I know he's not technically yo…"

"Jazz, stop." He spoke quietly, eyes back on the ceiling. He looked away from it suddenly, angry for some inexplicable reason.

"Okay, moving on then." She sighed again, sounding defeated, and took a little time to speak. She was probably having trouble letting go of the previous topic. "So…Where were you the last three days again?"

He didn't answer. He didn't have anything he could say to her, other that "none of your business." Jazz was definitely pro-active. She'd go to Clockwork. And knowing the damn ghost, he'd show himself to her _and_ answer all her questions in excruciating detail.

"Danny?" Her voice was a little exasperated. "_Fine_. I can't _make_ you tell me." She sounded upset. "But I hate to think…well, you _know_ you can always confide in me." He looked over slowly to see her fiddling with her thumbs, looking miserable. She noticed. "Is there anything you can tell me? I'm _worried_. I don't know where you've been, what happened between you and…you and Dan. Sam's worried, and Tucker. That drive back was one of the most miserable…" She stopped and sighed, and he could tell she was forcibly calming herself back down. "You know we're here for you, no matter what, right?"

He stared at her for a moment, and for the first time he found himself questioning those words. Would they really understand? And all of the sudden something very specific jumped into his mind from the blur of the past few days; something that tore at the very base of his heart. Would they _really_ support him, if they knew how close he'd come to becoming a killer? "I…." He looked away, brow furrowed in fear, voice quiet and timid. "What if I did something bad, Jazz? _Really_ bad." Somewhere deep down, he was listening harder than he ever had in his life for her answer. Deep down, this question addressed things he wasn't willing to acknowledge.

She jumped at the chance to reassure him, to be helpful in any way. "You'll always be my little brother. Danny. You're not a bad person. I _know_ you. You're sweet, and kind! Sometimes I think you don't know how _wonderful_ you are. You can't see it yourself, because you're looking from the inside out all the time, so you're always wondering and worrying about what everyone else thinks…" She paused, upset.

He'd started crying silently, the tears making lines down his cheeks. Would she being saying this if she knew…? Would she really feel this way? The self loathing was welling up, and he couldn't shove it away.

Jazz bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. It was painful to see him so upset. "Danny! It's true, whatever you did couldn't have been _that_ bad…" But this only seemed to make his tears come faster. "And…and even if it _was,_ you're obviously feeling guilty about it, so it's not like you'll ever do it again." She didn't seem to be getting through! After a moment she added, "Because you're a _good person_." Jazz fell silent, feeling horrible. Everything she said just made him more upset!

She got up and came forward to sit on his bed. He needed to understand what she, and everyone close to him, could _see_ in him! He did so much good, was such a wonderful person. He looked up at her blearily as she put her hand on his shoulder, blinking through the gummy tears. "You're a _good person_. I don't care what you did. Do you think you'd be crying like this if you weren't?"

Danny looked away, wracked with self doubt. "Maybe, I don't know…" He wiped at his eyes with his blanket, really only managing to smear the liquid around more evenly. "I almost killed him, Jazz." He looked up at her, blue eyes filled with self loathing and doubt. "I hurt him b-badly. I almost _killed_ him."

Jazz stared at him for a moment, and then her jaw hardened a little, and she spoke without blinking an eye. "You're only human, Danny. I wouldn't have hesitated to take a few swipes at him either, if I had the power. He _attacked Sam_. Of course you're angry." She smiled a little. "Is that what's bothering you? That you tried to kill him?" He was amazed at how calm she was, though she did flinch a tiny bit at the word "kill."

Danny wasn't sure she really understood, though. This couldn't be fixed with a pat on the back! "I _wanted_ to kill him. I wanted him _dead_. I tried my best to _destroy_ him, Jazz! And…" He looked away, ashamed, feeling like he was giving away his deepest, darkest secret. "He didn't even fight back."

"Danny." He looked back over, slowly. She was smiling softly at him. "You'll never do that ever again, _will_ you?" Her smile widened. "Like I said, you're a _good person_. I'm pretty sure everyone would agree that, well…he probably deserves to die. But even when you _know_ this, you're still horrified that you tried to kill him! You're ashamed that you got angry and upset, _ashamed_ that you wanted to take it out on him, when most people would be dancing on his grave right now! _Now_ do you understand?" She raised her eyebrows at him, face full of love.

He blinked away a few more tears, and looked away. He really wanted to tell her how much it meant to hear that, but all he could think to say was, "Thanks." He gave her a tiny smile, and started wiping at his face again, a subtle relief coursing through his system. "This has been the _worst_ vacation ever, especially the last few days."

She laughed for a little bit, happy to see him getting his sense of humor back. "Are you going to tell me where you were now?"

He smirked at her. "Nope, sorry."

She mock slapped at him, huffing. "_Danny_! Fine. You probably just went back to that restaurant we stopped at on the way over and ate _pie_."

He sat up suddenly, indignant, and tried not to smile. "No! _Besides_, three days eating pie and I'd be…"

"Sleeping it off?" She smiled widely and laughed, jumping up from the chair as he made to throw his pillow at her. "But I think you need alone time now, so I'll just talk to you later!" As she spoke she zipped over to the door, opened it, and dove through. But a moment later she stuck her head back in to stick her tongue out at him, and was just in time to get a pillow to the face. "Oh!"

"Heheh! Danny one, Jazz _zero_." He'd been so confident she would do that, his pillow had already been sailing on over as a result. She picked it up and threw it back, but he went intangible at the last second.

"Cheater!" She huffed, sticking her tongue out at him one more time, and closed the door before he had a chance to get her with the pillow again.

He flopped back after a moment, and smiled to himself. "Dumb sister." But somehow, she always knew what to say. He grew more serious again, thinking back over their talk. Some things he hadn't told her, wasn't ready to tell _anyone_, but her words had reached him there, too.

He sat back up slowly, pulling his knees up, feet spread comfortably a few feet apart, and rested his forearms lazily on his knees. Then he brought his hands up, slowly, and looked at them.

He slowly flexed his hand into fists, then released the tension, watching as his palms opened up again. Then he repeated it, slowly, rhythmically, as his mind came back down from the short reprieve from guilt and worry Jazz had given him.

She had helped. He found himself being reminded of the differences between himself and…his other self. He didn't know how to deal with what Clockwork had told him, so he simply wouldn't. Not now. And not in any definite, concrete way. But he had to judge himself on his own actions, right? _He_ hadn't tried to blow up his family. _He_ hadn't terrorized the world for nearly a decade. And he sure as hell hadn't forced himself on his best friend. His hands clenched involuntarily for a moment at the thought, and he found himself pulling back emotionally, distancing himself from the subject, as the sharp sting of guilt, like a fresh wound, stabbed though his mind.

Danny hadn't done any of those things, but he _had_ lost himself completely for a little while. He'd come so close to becoming someone who maybe, possibly _could_ do those things. He'd lost his mind; seen red. He'd been ready to do anything and everything it took to destroy someone else. And he loathed that lack of control, the fact that he could've done anything, and it wouldn't have mattered to him, not while he was doing it, anyway. And there'd been a lot that he _had_ done that night.

Danny let out a tiny gasp at this thought. _Wait_! He'd blown up an entire building, and several cars, _hadn't_ he? Stuff that could've had _people_ in them! A sense of horror thrummed through his body for a moment, and he found himself sliding out of bed.

He had to know….he sat down at his computer, feeling dazed, shocked for the dozenth time in half as many days. What if he had killed someone? It was possible, even likely! It had been a huge building, there might've been a few late workers, a janitor, someone could've been hit by debris going to their car, _anything_ like that! And what about the telephone pole or whatever it was he had thrown? The memory was a little hazy; he hadn't even been paying _attention_, had he? He could hear the blood rushing through his ears as he fought down the rising panic. No, _please_ no, tell me no one was hurt…

He began searching online for news, anything at all about that night. The Idaho headlines, city headlines, strange stories…and slowly, articles started popping up. He started coming across what he knew to be his handiwork: articles discussing the mysterious events of that night; a building going up in flames, two cars exploding, an entire telephone pole that looked as though some "monstrous force" came through, twisting it off at the base and throwing it though a building to land (Danny groaned) in a parked car, causing it to explode. Slowly the dread started to recede, though, because casualties, or even injuries, seemed to have been avoided.

But people had been hurt. One article focused on an old man who had been wakened by the loud crashing noise as the lighting pole he'd thrown had made its way through his small family-owned restaurant. He lived in the same building, and counted himself lucky the thing hadn't come closer. Another twenty feet and he and his wife could be dead right now. Danny felt himself trapped, reading on in fascinated mortification, even while his first terror at being a possible murderer continued to slip away. The man's name was Frank Sumners, and though his family was safe, his tiny business had been completely destroyed. It had been "Frankie's Italian," and had been a well known, well liked little hole in the wall restaurant. Unfortunately, this sort of freak accident could only be partially covered by his insurance. Frank would be putting himself into debt in order to rebuild and get his restaurant going again, and at sixty-two years of age he didn't know if it was worth it. But what could he do? He didn't have enough put away for retirement, now that most of it would be poured into fixing what his insurance wouldn't cover in any case…

Danny sat back, unable to stop until he'd read the entire article. Then he continued the search, his fears only partly gone, as Frank Sumners' troubles floated around in the back of his mind. He _owed_ that man. He owed him the life savings he'd lost, and that little restaurant. And now that he was really thinking about it, he realized that there were many other people he'd hurt. The owners of those cars, and the people who worked in and owned that business building he'd blown up with the ghostly wail.

After digging a while he was able to locate information on the business building in another article. It had housed several different companies, with a receptionist on the ground floor to help direct people.

Danny was lost in memory for a moment as he saw Dan in his inner eye picking himself up from that broken receptionist's desk wearing a shocked expression, as he himself, only partly phased through the outer wall, had glared at him. He'd been strangely gratified by the temporarily shaken look on his older self's face…

Danny frowned to himself uncomfortably, suddenly horribly embarrassed by the scene, and his own temporarily insane behavior. He'd been gratified to see his other self shaken like that. Gratified! _Of **course** he was shaken, you idiot! He thought I'd watch out for people and places, didn't he? Assumed I'd be careful!_ But ironically his older self had been the one doing damage control, which was probably a new feeling for him.

And where was he now, anyway? Danny leaned back from the computer, allowing himself to really think about his other self, a subject he'd managed to mostly avoid so far this morning. Somehow his older self had slipped into the ghost zone, hadn't he? It was a technique Danny hadn't seen a ghost use before. Come to think of it though, one of his parents' ghost fighting guns could open a momentary portal to the ghost zone which acted like a miniature black hole, dragging the ghost in as it closed up again. Had his other self figured out how to imitate that using his own ecto energy? It was something he'd have to try to imitate. Being able to get in or out of the ghost zone at a moment's notice? _That_ could be useful.

Danny put his hands behind his head as his mind focused back on his other self. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. The bastard had to be hurting pretty badly right now, wherever he was. Ghosts were incredibly tough, so Danny didn't think he'd be gone _forever_, but he sure wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Even now, with the guilt weighing him down for how out of control he'd been, he couldn't feel sorry for him. He'd deserved every punch. It did sicken him when he thought about how he'd mangled his arm, and he knew he'd have nightmares about it. But that didn't mean Dan hadn't _deserved_ it. After all, his other self had done much worse, in both timelines.

_But he didn't have anyone._ The unwelcome thought flashed into his mind out of nowhere, and Danny's thoughts ground to a sudden halt. Suddenly an image, a memory his mind seemed to have been waiting to spring on him, focused in his mind's eye with intense clarity, and he hated it.

_Sam stood in a darkened room, her hands placed on that monster's shoulders; just resting there, Danny realized, not pushing away. The monster had most of his face buried in her stomach, his jaw clenched, tears streaming down his cheek…_

"Agh!" Danny stood up, rubbing his face vigorously to dispel the disturbing scene he'd been met with that split second before they'd both turned to him, having noticed him standing in the doorway. But his evil self's voice, a voice so like his own, was much harder to dispel.

_"Clockwork let me out, you know." So Clockwork's a bastard and I didn't know! _But then he'd asked if there'd been any _"chaos in the Ghost Zone, or in the human world?" _Danny groaned into his hands as he walked back and forth between the desk and his bed. So he'd been free for a year and Armageddon hadn't hit yet. That didn't make him a saint!

Again, as though conspiring against him, his mind suddenly flipped to the crux of his fears concerning Dan, highlighting the painfully clear memories in a voice he could never escape.

_"I'm you; I'm just all Phantom…"_

_"A soul isn't effected by time or space. **Time**, or space…"_

_"We're actually **destined** to mer…"_

"UrrrRRG STOP IT!" Danny's eyes snapped open, as his hands fisted in his hair, pulling in desperate frustration. He turned his eyes to the ceiling as adrenaline coursed through his veins, and those hated words finally died away. He couldn't, _wouldn't_ deal with that! _Damn_ his other self! _Damn_ Clockwork! He was not…_connected_….with his other self like that!

What did Clockwork know, anyway! He was manipulative, had even said so _himself_, had pulled a disappearing act for the past nine months when he might've actually been _useful_, and now _this_? How exactly had he earned his trust anyway? Wasn't it _his_ stupid time medallion that had brought Dan here in the first place?

Danny let out a slow groaning sigh, and dropped his hands to his sides, calming down a little. That was the answer, then. He couldn't trust either of them, and so couldn't take anything they said seriously. _Period_. He didn't have to deal with it. Never mind if it even made sense. Which it _didn't_. It had _no_ bearing on his life, _nothing_ to do with him; he _would not think_ about it…!

"Danny?" His dad had popped open the door and was staring at his somewhat distraught profile owlishly. "Your mom heard you yell, son, and we just wanted to see if you were okay." He raised both eyebrows. "Didn't drop something on your foot, did you? Just yesterday I got my big toe _really good_ with the Fent…"

Danny stared at him as he talked, completely caught off guard for a moment. Somehow the intrusion had snapped him out of the nasty rut his mind had been digging, so he was almost thankful for the inane chatter. He swallowed, willing himself to calm down further, and thought up an excuse. "Nah, actually my computer's messing up. A virus, I think." He grinned shakily. "But that's life, right?" He walked over to his desk, turning his computer off manually to hide what he'd been looking up. "I'll just give it a cold boot; that'll probably fix it."

"And if that doesn't work, a swift kick can do a world of good!" His dad grinned good naturedly. He frowned in mock concentration. "Or maybe Tucker would be a better way to go." He let out a booming laugh and started backing out of the room again, but stopped at the last moment. "Breakfast should be on the way in about half an hour, Danny. FLAPJACKS!" He closed the door, grinning.

Danny breathed out in a whoosh, running his right hand through his hair in agitation. _Whew_. There was one instinct he'd honed to perfection- the ability to come up with a whopper at anytime and anyplace, with just about anyone. He was a master at lying, and doing it in tight situations. It wasn't that he wanted to, of course; it was simply a necessity.

After a moment he took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of his bed. Strangely, having to throw up his barriers like that had helped get his thoughts under control, at least for the moment. He lay back after a bit, forcing himself to relax more, and after a few minutes, to his surprise, he could feel himself dozing off. But then he'd woken up insanely early after all, and had just been through a grueling several days. Then the enticing smells of breakfast began wafting up, and Danny realized with a start that he hadn't eaten in nearly forty-eight hours.

The reaction was instantaneous. He was a teenage boy. And he wasn't just hungry, he was _starving_. How'd he missed it before? And as he stampeded down the stairs he realized that all emotional dilemmas could _totally_ wait.

* * *

Sam sat in her room, cell phone in hand. It had been three days since she'd gotten home, and she had yet to hear from Danny.

Jazz, however, called her regularly every morning to give her a "Danny update." Apparently he spent a lot of time in his room on the computer, doing research on any and all damage he was responsible for from the fight. He wanted to keep track so he could make up for it someday.

Which was cool, and it sounded like he was focusing on something positive, which for him was a really good thing. But she'd really, _really_ love to hear from him personally. And there were still the three days of missing time Danny hadn't accounted for yet. Jazz was hoping maybe someone else, either her or Tucker, could get him to open up, since he was a closed book at home.

Sam's thumb hovered over the send button on her cell phone, having already scrolled down to his number. Why did this have to be so _hard_? She _really_ wanted to talk to him! She had _missed_ him. She had gone nine months without the silly jokes, the banter between all three of them, the occasional serious discussions as her own philosophy and Tucker's clashed, with Danny offering up a quiet, but often goofy word now and then. She missed the movie nights, the bowling, helping Danny with last minute homework, even. Heck, she missed the wild and crazy ghost hunts, though Tucker (who had already called her twice, unlike a certain ghost boy) had said there were hardly any ghost sightings in Amity anymore.

Sam was even willing to admit to herself that she…she especially missed the tender, shy looks Danny used to send her sometimes, the ones that would send a tingling sensation all the way down to the tips of her toes. But she was worried that the chance they'd had for _something more _might be gone forever.

The fact was, he wasn't even comfortable talking _about_ her, according to Jazz, let alone _with_ her. Which was why Jazz had told her that she needed to make the first move to get their friendship going again, either by dropping by or giving him a call. Thus the cell phone she was currently holding in her hand.

But things were so complicated! What could she talk about with him, would even _want_ to talk about? "Hey Danny, want to hear about the details of pregnancy and single motherhood, which has been my life for the past nine months?" Barf! _She_ didn't even want to talk about the pregnancy, and she'd gone through it! And she was afraid that if they started talking seriously, it would lead somewhere she didn't want to go, that _neither_ of them wanted to go, and then what?

_Sam, you coward!_ Now she was just making excuses. They'd both know instinctively what to avoid, and they still had plenty to talk about, like what he and Tucker had been up to in her absence.

No, when it came down to it, she was afraid of rejection. Who said he'd even be comfortable hanging out with her now, let alone anything more? She was a teenage mom! She didn't even have time to "hang out" anymore. There weren't exactly a lot of people she could trust to baby sit Nathaniel. Not that she'd give him up for the world, but he just made things so complicated…

She put the phone down, losing her nerve again, and got up from her bed, wandering over to the crib, where Nathaniel was sleeping. She had to thank her lucky stars that Vlad had thought to make the crib somewhat normal looking. It wouldn't win any beauty contests, but nothing glowed green (or any other color), and if you didn't know any better you'd think it was perfectly normal, if rather ugly. Her mother had draped colorful covers over the side to hide its grey color.

"Sweety?" Speak of the devil. Her mom's muffled voice could be heard on the other side of her door. Sam was almost happy for the distraction.

"Yes?" She smoothed her hair behind her ears, not quite willing to go over and open the door just yet.

"Something came in the mail for you, sweetheart." Sam winced at the pathetically hopeful tone in her Mom's voice. It wasn't that she had wanted to avoid her family over the past few days, but what choice did she have? She couldn't predict when Nathaniel would "go ghost," and the idea of her parents finding out was terrifying. They loved her dearly, but could she really expect them to deal rationally with Nathaniel's ghost half…?

"Er, just a sec Mom." Sam sighed softly and padded toward the door, opening it to the expectant face of her mother, who handed over a small package.

"It's strange, it doesn't have a return address, Sammykins." Her Mom looked down at it curiously as Sam gave the small package a quick once-over.

It was a carefully taped up cardboard box, about the size of a paperback book. There didn't appear to be any markings on it, aside from their own address printed in large, blocky letters, though, oddly, there wasn't any sign of postage. She flipped it over to check the back.

The letters VP were printed in the center in a large, ornate script. Sam's mouth tightened imperceptibly. _Vlad Plasmius_. She'd thought so.

She looked up, trying to appear bored. "I'll…take a look at it in a little bit. Thanks." She smiled apologetically as she placed her free hand on the edge of her door, silently imploring her mom to go away. She responded with a slight frown on her brow and a tight, sad smile, but moved back. Sam closed the door, feeling like a jerk. _Sorry Mom._

She slowly made her way back to her bed, eyes narrowed on the suspicious package. Another gift? Or a trap? She supposed she'd open it, but first…

She nabbed her cell phone, brought up another number, and waited a moment as the phone rang.

"Hey Sam, what's up?" Tucker sounded happy to talk, though they'd just spoken three or four hours ago. Everybody was happy to talk to her right now, except Danny, apparently.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could make a quick stop over at my place for a few minutes? And maybe bring a few of your more interesting tools with you? I have an item or two that'll…probably be interesting..." She left the sentence hanging, a laugh in her voice.

He sounded intrigued. "Really. I know if _you_ say so it's probably true, so give me a few and I'll be right over, okay?"

Sam grinned. "Great, and thanks. Bye." She smiled softly as she put the phone down. Her eyes immediately went to the package. Opening it right now probably wouldn't do any harm, but she kind of wanted Tucker here just in case it _was_ something really nasty, so she'd wait.

* * *

At the sound of the doorbell Sam snuck out of her room for a few moments to usher Tucker inside and to quickly drag him back upstairs, which he didn't seem to mind. He'd rather skip the small talk with the odd family member, too, if it was all the same.

She turned after closing her bedroom door, and let out a huff of air. "Okay." She paused for a moment as Tucker walked away and started taking off layers, draping them over the back of a chair. It was freezing outside, after all, and humid, which always made the cold ten times worse. She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Tuck, I _completely_ forgot about the lousy weather."

He half turned while struggling out of the jacket he wore under his longer coat, smiling. "No problem. So where's the merchandise?"

She frowned. "I got what looks like another present. From Vlad." They locked eyes for a moment. _Uh-oh._

"Right." He crossed his arms. "So, have you opened it yet?"

"Nope. I was waiting for you to do the honors." She went over to retrieve it from the bed, passing it to Tucker. "It's all yours. Unless you'd prefer I open it?"

"I'd prefer you _not_ open it. I'm really glad you called me too." He was serious for a moment, worry for her showing in his face.

She looked down, embarrassed but happy to have someone who cared about her and fully understood the situation. "Thanks. So…"

Without further talk, Tucker started carefully tearing open the package. The contents included a small rubbery bracelet and a letter. They sat on the edge of Sam's bed, unfolded the letter, and read silently.

_"Dearest Samantha,_

_Upon learning of your new living arrangements, I thought it pertinent to bequeath you with another small gift, which is also, of course, a further token of my good will._

_It is a very unique bracelet to be worn by Nathaniel. I think you will find it helps with certain digestive difficulties he may have, you know, to help with his perhaps too frequent changes. It has been thoroughly tested, and should be completely harmless to his system. But if you feel the need, may I suggest trying it out on any available specimens who might present themselves?_

_I should warn you that it is still the first of its kind, and thus may have unforeseen effects if worn at all times. For instance, when removed there might be a temporary increase in Nathaniel's digestive problems, and he may need a change very quickly. That said, I would suggest using the bracelet when other alternatives are unavailable. I trust, however, that this will serve to free up your schedule quite a bit, thus leaving you to fully enjoy your time back in the loving presence of friends and family._

_Yours truly,_

_VP"_

Tucker broke the silence after a moment. "Riiiiight. I guess you have to give him points for being circumspect." He leaned back on his hands, letting Sam have the letter.

She scowled. "Of _course_ he's circumspect. Just think about what he sent me! The last thing he wants is for my cover to be blown with my parents. _Danny's_ parents might find out from them, and then what?" She paused for a moment.

Tucker picked up the question. "Well, I guess they'd really be interested in Nathaniel, for one…"

"Yeah, and what else? They'd probably put a ghost shield up around our house."

Tucker nodded. "Right. And they'd probably be able to design something like this bracelet, and any other stuff you'd need." He pursed his lips. "So Vlad would be cut out of the equation, wouldn't he?"

Sam's scowl deepened. "If he was lucky. If things really came out, his _own_ identity could be in jeopardy, never _mind_ his chance at Nathaniel! And I have no doubt that's what he's still after." She smiled scornfully. "I bet all his plans went to hell when you guys found me, though. _Poor_ Vlad." Her smile slowly turned to a frown, and she put the letter down to wander over to Nathaniel's pen.

Tucker came to stand next to her after a moment, resting his hands on the edge of the pen. "I'm really glad we found you, Sam, even if you were planning to come back anyway."

"Yeah." Her eyes stayed on Nathaniel's sleeping form.

"But you know, I've been thinking, and with Vlad keeping an eye on you, maybe you couldn't have…_made_ it back. On your own." Sam turned to meet his gaze, face tight.

"Yeah, I…know. That's why I was taking so l-long…I knew I'd need a plan." Her eyes widened as she spoke, her face tightening so much her lips were pulled back into an unnatural smile. She took an unsteady breath, trying to get a grip on the rising hysteria she'd been suppressing for months now. "I mean, look at how fast this came, Tuck." Her voice was a terrified whisper. "Look at how _fast_…"

He put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "Sam…" She turned, letting him pull her into a tight hug. Tucker found himself tearing up slightly in response to her shaking shoulders. She'd been through so much. "Wow, Sam. I don't know how you held it together like you did all this time, I honestly can't fathom…" He let out a soft sigh, stroking her head with one hand to sooth her as she let her fears and more than a few tears fall onto his shoulder.

They pulled apart after a minute or two, Sam's face red and wet. She let out a shaky sigh. "Sorry."

Tucker shook his head. "You deserve a good cry."

She smiled, and had to admit that she felt strangely cleansed. "Well, thanks." She couldn't tell him how much this meant to her, but she tried as best she could, voice still a little shaky. "I don't know how I ended up with a friend as good as you." She sighed again, and they sat for a moment longer.

Then she hopped up suddenly. "I'm a mess. Give me half a minute to get the salt out of my eyes?"

"Yeah, of course." She was off to the bathroom in a flash. Tucker picked up the bracelet after a moment, fiddling with it as he waited. It was a light blue, and made of a flexible but tough material. There weren't any sharp edges, and it was adjustable. There was also a key for opening it, which was a necessary thing, he guessed, if Sam wanted to leave Nathaniel with people who might think to take it off for some reason. Overall, it seemed to be really well made. Not that he should be surprised by that.

"So…" Tucker looked up to see Sam standing in the bathroom door, "that thing's supposed to short out his ghost powers?"

"Hypothetically."

Sam looked thoughtful. "He suggested testing it on Danny to make sure, though. I wonder if he'd be willing?" She looked almost ashamed after asking. "I don't know, it's probably too risky." She couldn't stop herself from going on, though. "It's just…it would be so _useful_." She walked over to sit next to him again. "That's why I started using the playpen. It was that or go with less than two hours of sleep a night."

They stared down at it for a moment. "We might as well ask him, right?"

"You mean…Danny?"

Tucker cocked an eyebrow at her. "_Yes_, Danny. Who else? _Vlad_?"

Sam avoided his gaze. "Yeah, of course Danny, I guess. I just…we should probably wait until tomorrow, it's getting late enough today that he'll probably be having dinner in an hour. I wouldn't want to interrupt…" She looked up, incredulous, at the sound of Tucker snickering softly.

"I can't believe it. _You're_ shy!" Sam was mortified at the words, crossing her arms defensively.

"No I'm _not_, Tucker…"

"Yes you are! And only with _Danny_, of course! I _told_ Jazz it was going to be hard to get you two, er…" he floundered for a second, obviously reworking what he'd been about to say, "back to normal." He smiled widely at her.

Sam narrowed her eyes at him. "What were you _really_ going to say?" His smile grew even more. "Tucker!" She gave him her best Goth glare of death, but it had no effect. It was probably the blond hair.

"Sorry, you don't scare me anymore, Sam. I'm _taller_ than you now!" He said it as though she might have missed the fact.

She rolled her eyes. "You were taller when I left!" She fixed her glare on him again, and after a few moments the pressure got to him.

"Okay, okay, maybe you still scare me sometimes. A little. But I said exactly what I meant to say, and I'm not changing a word." He chuckled good naturedly.

She relented, smiling a little herself. "Right. So, tomorrow then?" The look in her eyes dared him to argue with her.

"Fine by me. I'll give him a call about it on my way back home. I already planned to hound him into doing something with me tomorrow anyway, since school starts back the day after. So…I guess I'll get him over here sometime tomorrow. I'll call you ahead of time to let you know when?"

"That's fine. I'll see you then." They shared a smile, before he turned to struggle back into his cold weather gear.

"Er, Sam? Why don't I take the bracelet with me? Maybe Danny and I can run a few tests on it using his parents' stuff." He wiggled one hand around, trying to get his glove to fit more comfortably. She came over and handed the bracelet to him.

"Great idea."

A few more moments of struggling went by, and then, "Okay, I'm off." Tucker gave her a quick smile, a wave, a "See you tomorrow," and then let himself out the door.

She closed it behind him after a moment, leaning against the solid wood. Her heart fluttered a little as her thoughts immediately jumped to his accusation of her being shy around Danny. _He is so right._ She bit her lip in trepidation. She'd be seeing Danny tomorrow! She groaned softly to herself, aggravated with feelings she wasn't used to having. _Her_ shy, _her_ hesitant? Tucker was completely right. It only happened around Danny. She turned around so her back was to the door and bent her knees, letting herself slide to the floor. She sat for a moment, mood turning sour.

Well darn it all, they couldn't _both_ be shy! She needed to buck up and stop acting like such an utter wuss! If she wanted to get her best friend back again (and maybe something more, a mischievous voice added in the back of her head), then she'd have to make the effort _herself_.

* * *

_Author's Note: Wrtiers block has been getting me down. And on that note, constructive criticism is extremely welcome. It gets me thinking on stuff in different ways, brings up ideas I hadn't thought of sometimes, stuff like that…_

_Er, one more thing. I don't know if you guys noticed, but I made Sam's grandma be her dad's mom, not her mom's mom. oO Anyway, I don't know if that's right (though I did look around a bit to try and find out), or how anybody else has treated this, or whatever, so...yeah. If I'm wrong I'll change it, just tell me so!_


	18. Aftermath, Moving Forward

_This Chapter is dedicated to Me the Anon One, who is a _

_Kind, Wonderful Person._

* * *

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter 18: Afterwards, Moving Forward  
**

Tucker walked the length of his bedroom as he dialed Danny's cell phone number. It rang five times.

"Hey, Tuck." Tucker didn't miss how tired Danny sounded, as though he'd spent the last several days staring at a computer screen. And he had; Jazz had said so, although Tucker also recognized that particular brand of exhaustion from personal experience.

"Hey Danny. So, today's the last day before school dude, and I want to do something with it. So I'm coming over there to pry you out of your room. Make it easier on yourself and take a shower before I get there, okay?" Usually he wasn't this pushy, but occasionally there was no other way to be, with both Danny and Sam.

There was a pause, and Tucker could picture Danny's blank stare. "Um, Tucker, I'm kind of busy, I don't think…"

"Hey, come _on_. The whole vacation thing went down the tubes. And I've spent the last few days giving you your space. Is it too much to ask for one day of fun with my best friends?" _Oops._

"Friends?" _Aw, crud._ Of _course_ he'd zone in on that…

"Or just you and me, whatever…"

"No. You should spend time with Sam, Tucker, she _needs_ you. And I'd just be…I'd be boring, I'd be so distracted, wanting to get back to my research…"

He was trying to cover it, Tucker knew, but the guilt had temporarily flooded his voice. The confused, muzzy sounding Danny from a moment ago had been ten times better. _Way to put your foot in your mouth, Tucker._

"Danny, listen to me, I've _got_ to come over there. There's something I need to show you. So, please, just give me the okay, because I'm about to head out the door anyway."

Again there was a silent moment. "I…what about, um," and, of course, the guilty pause, "Sam?"

Tucker rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I'll be alone, don't worry."

"I'm not worried!" Now he sounded defensive. "I mean, I _am_, she shouldn't be alone the day before school starts."

Tucker took a second to respond, debating whether he should say what was on his mind, and finally just went with it. "You know, you could call her up and tell her that yourself. It would mean a lot, if she heard something like that from you." _ If she heard from you, period._

"I'm not…I'm really busy. Look, are you _sure_ you have to come over?" Tucker could hear the exasperation; Danny was probably worried about getting grilled about avoiding Sam. _Which he should be._

Tucker rolled his eyes again, as he made a beeline for his jacket. "Yeah, I _have_ to come over. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Go take that shower." He hung up, and paused for a second before getting ready to leave. This wasn't going to be fun.

* * *

Danny stared at the phone for a second, and debated, in a sleepy sort of way, getting up to take a shower. Glowering to himself, he realized he hadn't bathed for nearly two days, and…yup. He smelled. How had Tucker _known_?

Well, they had been friends forever. And that meant that _he_ knew that fifteen minutes in Tucker time probably meant more like thirty minutes in real time. Plenty of time to take a shower, then.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, and Danny heard Tucker come through the front door. He looked over blearily, hair still slightly damp, from where was sprawled on the living room couch; he had the urge to ask Tucker for "just another five minutes."

While showering, he'd realized just how little sleep he'd been getting. And the sad thing was there didn't appear to be anything else he could possibly find out about the damage he'd caused a week ago without actually flying back to Idaho. And school started tomorrow. Which, now that Sam was back, he'd been forced to acknowledge he was flunking. Badly. Not that that was a big deal, with all the other bigger worries running through his mind.

Like Sam. Or his evil double. Or…life in general. But mostly just Sam. The last few days were a little hazy, and mostly included avoiding thinking of certain things, thus the fevered attempt to occupy his time researching the destruction he'd caused. One, it distracted him. Two, he could avoid his family. "Sorry, can't eat with you now, I'm doing research!"

They'd asked about what he was researching, of course, and he'd said "school." Which was why he'd remembered that he was flunking. Still, it was better to worry about that a little than to even come _near_ thinking about the _real_ pain in his life.

Danny still didn't know exactly how to deal with it all, but things had gotten slightly better since his life had exploded around him a week ago. He could actually think about…Sam now. With difficulty. He didn't like to because it still hurt, but he could. He could even acknowledge _why_ it hurt, a little. But he felt like he needed another month, or maybe a year, before he'd be willing to _really deal_ with any of it.

Deep down he knew that wasn't going to happen. Ever since he'd gotten his ghost powers, his life had been in permanent fast forward. He was seventeen, going on forty…or something. Urg, that would make him Vlad or something, wouldn't it?

"_Hey_." Danny looked up to see Tucker's fingers waving in front of his face. "Dude. How much sleep did you _get_ last night?" He was laughing at him at little.

Danny pulled himself into a sitting position (as opposed to the sprawl), and rubbed at his face. "Some. Not enough, I guess." He woke up a little more, and stood up. "Hey, let's go up to my room. My parents are down in the lab, and I'd prefer they stay there."

"Sure." They headed for the stairs. It was habitual for Danny's mom to come upstairs to talk for a little while if she heard voices upstairs, so they had a habit of going to his room when they wanted privacy.

Tucker grinned as they reached his bedroom. "Nice bed hair, by the way. Or couch hair, as the case may be." Danny made a face, and ran his hands through his hair to get it under control. One side was going down, and the other side up.

He closed the bedroom door, and turned to face Tucker, still feeling completely sluggish. "Could be a new style." He smiled a little. Now that Tucker was actually here, he was kind of grateful for some normal everyday interaction. Nothing's wrong with my life, everything's great. See, we're talking, laughing. People don't _do_ these things when everything is wrong in their lives, right?

Except they did, he was discovering. It's what you had to do. You put up a mask so good that you even fooled yourself with it, at least while you were around other people. But maybe it didn't work so well though, late at night when you were alone with you own thoughts, trying to get to sleep…

Tucker chuckled, bringing Danny back out of his depressing thoughts. "Yeah, all you have to do is go ghost and let Paulina see your new style. I'd love to see her try to convince Dash how great it looks…"

Danny rolled his eyes at the thought. Paulina had never dropped her fixation on Danny Phantom, but it had become more reasonable, in a way. _Now_ she had Danny Phantom, who was her hot, unattainable movie star (or in this case super hero) crush, and then her normal everyday boyfriend, who she tried not to get too excited about Danny Phantom in front of, at least much. But it seemed to work out okay, because Dash was a huge Danny Phantom fan too, and had even considered dying his hair white for a few months. He did wear his hair as much like Phantom as he could manage, much to Danny's amusement, and he had to wonder what he'd do if he _did_ try the bed hair look, as Phantom.

_Nah. No way. He __**wouldn't**__, would he?_ Danny and Tucker shared a look. They broke down into muffled laughter, which died away quickly.

Danny sighed slightly. "You know, it's kind of pathetic."

"What?" Tucker sat down on Danny's bed, leaning back on his arms.

"Well, they still think I'm such a loser, and here they are acting like such groupies themselves. And since when are _groupies_ cool?"

Tucker grinned. "Hey, don't bash the groupies. _I'm_ a groupie. I have a lot of things that I consider myself a groupie of."

"Okay, then we're all pathetic." Danny tried not to smile, but couldn't help himself. They all had something, didn't they? He loved anything to do with outer space, so he and Tucker shared a love of, yes…Star Trek, and Jazz, as smart as she was, still had a thing for boy bands, it seemed. And Sam had her anime, of course, which they'd all kind of gotten into over time. _Sam…_

Danny sat down next to Tucker, and lay back, stretching his arms over his head, suddenly feeling very sad. He tried to keep it out of his voice, and the result was that he sounded very bored, or sleepy.

"So, what was it you had to show me, anyway? You said it couldn't wait." He stared into nothing, feeling somehow cheated. Everywhere he turned, he'd inevitably hit that deep painful place, just like a physical wound he'd accidentally touched.

Tucker fidgeted for a moment, feeling uncomfortable. He was heading into deep water here. He'd been friends with Danny forever, just about, and they talked about a lot of things. But the really emotional stuff mostly got skimmed over, and now he was at the edge of a deep chasm with the stuff in it that can make or break a bond of friendship, however strong.

It was just that he _knew_ he needed to tell Danny things, and needed to get Danny to tell him some things, so he could get some of whatever he was feeling off his chest. Tucker _understood_ what Danny was doing; he'd be doing it too, if he was in his shoes. Danny was hiding away from himself and his friends and family, so he could have time to heal emotionally. Tucker knew the only reason he had pulled _himself_ together so quickly over the news about Sam was because Danny had a hell of a lot more on his shoulders, and he _needed_ the people around him to be strong for him. But now, it was the day before school started up again, and things were going to get busy. Tucker had given Danny the week to himself, but now he needed to say some things, and if he didn't they might never get said.

Tucker started slowly unzipping the backpack he'd brought with him. Actually, it was lucky, because he truly _did_ have a reason to be here; the bracelet Vlad gave Sam. And since it required talking about her to Danny, it was a great excuse to kind of meander into other more serious subjects.

He pulled out the bracelet and handed it to Danny. "Here. This is what I came here for." _Partially_.

Danny sat up slowly, turning the thing around in his hands. "What is it?"

"It's a bracelet…for Nathaniel." Danny stopped spinning it, and didn't speak for a moment. Tucker clarified, not sure he wanted to know what was wandering through Danny's mind. "From Vlad."

"Ah." His voice was quiet. "What's it do?"

Tucker's eyes narrowed. "Supposedly it suppresses his ghost powers so he won't turn ghost at embarrassing times." He sighed. "Sam hates to admit it, but it'd be really useful."

"But she doesn't trust Vlad, of course."

"Nope."

"So I'm a guinea pig."

"Um, yeah?"

Danny didn't even hesitate. "Okay." Tucker felt suddenly uncomfortable.

"Hey, you don't have to…"

"No, Tuck, it's the least I can do. I _want_ to help." He looked up. "Besides, Vlad doesn't want to hurt Nathaniel, right? He wants him for a son. And it won't mess with my powers either, because he wants a _half ghost_ son, otherwise he wouldn't be interested in him." Danny didn't even look angry at this, just sad and resigned.

He stood up and slipped on the bracelet, tightening it so it fit snuggly over his wrist. He was somewhat surprised by its range of adjustability, and comfortable fit. Unbeknownst to him, Vlad _had_ thoroughly tested it on himself.

"So, anything weird?"

He glanced down at Tucker. "Um, I haven't tried changing yet."

"Oh." Danny looked back up, staring into nothing, and concentrated on going ghost, slowly. He felt the familiar tingling at his waist, but the rings didn't emerge. He pushed a little harder, and the tingling increased. He thought he caught a glimpse of energy a few feet in front of his navel, like an electric spark from a light socket, but that was as close as he came to forming the rings that signified the start of his transformation. He relaxed, and sat back down.

"Well, that was simple. I couldn't change." He paused. "But I didn't try really hard. I figure a baby wouldn't be very powerful, though." Tucker passed him the key to unlock the bracelet, and a moment later he slipped it off his hand.

And suddenly he was a ghost. It only lasted an instant, and then he was human again, but it caught him so much by surprise that he gasped out loud. He hadn't changed involuntarily in _years_.

"Weird. Vlad said it would do something like that."

Danny threw him a dirty look. "Thanks for the warning." He handed it back, suddenly feeling weirded out at having voluntarily tested something ghost related made by _Vlad_. Actually, now that he thought about it…"Tucker, let's take it down to the lab. We can check it for nasty stuff. You know my parents, they have plenty of scanners for that."

"Great. Actually, I was kind of thinking the same thing. But you were so willing to test it out on yourself, it kind of slipped my mind."

Danny rolled his eyes, but let it go. He sighed instead, and looked down at the floor, thinking about how to get into the lab quietly. "My parents are down there right now, though."

Tucker stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well, it's almost lunch time, so why don't we get something to eat first? You know me, I always think better on a full stomach." He smiled widely. They both knew that wasn't really true, of course. But Tucker _was_ hungry; he'd skipped breakfast. And besides, he definitely _didn't_ concentrate well when he was hungry.

Danny smiled reluctantly in response. "Yeah, okay." Then he thought about it for a moment, as they headed out of his room. "Actually, I haven't had any breakfast, so that sounds really good…"

This time Tucker rolled his eyes as they hit the stairs.

* * *

They ended up making BLTs. The smell of bacon lured up Danny's parents, and they ended up having an impromptu group lunch. Danny had been doing a remarkable job of avoiding his parents the last several days.

They were, naturally, very happy about Sam's return. It was why Danny had been avoiding them. With Tucker did most of the talking, and Danny most of the eating, the conversation was less painful than it could have been. His mask held up, and Danny's parents avoided the topic of Sam's baby, which helped things a lot.

It was actually lucky they'd come up for lunch, because after that his parents left for the electronics store to pick up a few tools for their latest project. With them out of the way, and Jazz out running her own errands for the coming school semester (which, for her, didn't start for another two weeks, but then she was obsessive like that) Danny and Tucker had the house to themselves.

They didn't waste time; sure, his parents had just left, but they could be back in half an hour if things went smoothly.

They were silent on their way down to the lab, both mulling over different things. Danny made his way over to the Fenton Ecto-Evaluator, a device for scanning multiple wavelengths of ghost energy, and turned to Tucker for the bracelet. He handed it over, still silent, and they both watched as Danny ran the scanner through the length of the ghostly energy spectrum. There was a peak in what they called the "blue" region, but that was safe.

Danny broke the silence, looking up. "So, what else?"

"Not sure. We could check it for other energy." There was a thoughtful pause.

"Yeah." Danny turned, and rummaged through another box of gizmos, pulling out a much more common device; an electric meter. He held it up to the inside and outside of the bracelet. It registered, but just barely. "Well, nothing too dangerous there. I probably register twenty times what this thing does, and I'm not exactly a battery."

Tucker grinned, trying to lighten the serious mood. "I dunno, don't forget the Matrix. We could all be really big, incredibly inefficient human batteries."

Danny smirked. "Yeah, but the joke's on them because I refuse to believe that all the effort they went through was worth the ten watts an hour they'd get from me."

"That's why they call it 'artificial intelligence.' They're still missing a few screws." They both laughed. It wasn't even that funny, but they both sensed the need for release.

Danny groaned after a moment. "Ugh, we're such geeks. Only geeks talk about a sci-fi movie as though it's real."

"Whatever, I like being a geek. I've embraced my geekiness. For me, being a geek is the _objective_." Tucker grinned, and snorted quietly. "And you? Your parents _and_ you sister are all geeks. You were doomed before you were even _born_, Danny!" He paused for a moment, then added, in a completely deadpan voice. "Embrace…your inner geek. Join the dark side."

Flashbacks to Freakshow and the Circus Gothica flew through Danny's mind, twisted in a bizarrely comical way, and he was forced to put his hands over his face in amused disgust. "Tucker! You're insane." He sighed into his hands, stifling a laugh in the process, and then combed his fingers through his hair.

Despite everything that had happened lately, being around Tucker really was helping him to relax, and take his mind off of things. Maybe they could even play some video game for awhile or someth…

"So, guess I'll need to be getting this thing back to Sam, if it checks out." _Well there went __**that**_. Reality descended, and Danny felt his mood darken with its return.

"Yeah. You should get going. Half the day's gone already." Danny turned slowly toward the stairs, feeling suddenly tired again. Maybe tired of everything, a little.

A hand on his elbow stopped him. "Hey, why can't it be _us_? Why can't you come too, Danny?" Tucker sounded serious, and slightly pleading.

He didn't turn around, the tension suddenly thick in the air. "I…can't, Tuck. I can't see her right now."

"Then when?"

"I don't know. Maybe never."

The hand on his elbow tightened. "Maybe _never_? What are you _talking_ about? She's your best _friend_, Danny!" He sighed, an angry exhalation of air. "Do you have any idea how important you are to her? Even a phone call would mean…more than you know." He petered out slightly. He'd wanted to say "it'd mean the world to her" but couldn't, somehow. Wasn't it something he should _know_, damn it?

Danny turned toward him slightly, eyebrows furrowed in anxiety. "Tucker, I can't. I can't talk to her right now. It's just…how can she…" He turned away, suddenly overcome with emotion. He was _not_ going to talk about this, yet the words were trying to worm their way out of his _head_!

"Danny…what…" Tucker wasn't sure what to say, but Danny was suddenly _extremely_ upset. He spoke softly, trying to be gentle. "You can tell me anything, I'm your best friend too. It's what I'm here for."

Something in Tucker's voice tightened the knot in Danny's chest even further, and he could feel even more emotional control slipping away until he felt like there was a dagger of pure anguish in his gut.

Tucker continued on, soothingly, his hand lightly touching Danny's shoulder. "How can she what, Danny…?"

He whispered it. "_Stand to be around me_." His hands went to his face, this time in an attempt to rein in the powerful guilt overwhelming him. "How…_can she stand to be near me, Tucker! _I've_ ruined _her_ life!" _

Tucker felt overwhelmed at his words. It broke something inside him to see Danny like this, and he was afraid he'd start crying if he didn't _really_ watch himself. Maybe later he would, but _not in front of Danny_.

Tucker answered him quickly, almost as though he were defending himself, and in a way he _was_, against his own urge to break down and cry. "_Listen_ to me Danny, what happened is _not_ _your_ _fault_. Don't you _dare_ think that!" He frowned deeply, angry at the world. "Do you hear what I'm _saying_ to you?" He ground his teeth together painfully, trying to keep his voice in check. He grabbed both of Danny's shoulders tightly, and shook him slightly, trying to make his friend see the truth.

"She loves you. Don't you understand? She _loves_ you. And if you think she's too stupid to see the difference between you and _him_, then you're _insane_! Give her some credit! Don't you think she knows what she wants better than you? And you know what? I _know_ you love her too." He let go of his shoulders so he could gesticulate wildly, suddenly feeling exasperated. "And…it's _insane_ that I have to watch you two, all this time, dancing around each other, going crazy about each other, yet somehow being completely _oblivious_ to the each others' feelings! It's amazing! Jazz should study you guys, you're both a case study in _denial_!" He huffed, calming down a little. "Or something. I don't know. I'm not a psychiatrist."

Danny had calmed down during the tirade. He was still facing away, looking forlornly up the stairs. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"She doesn't love me." Danny's voice was deadpan.

Tucker felt slightly guilty; it hadn't really been his place to tell him about that. "Yes she does. I know she loves you…as a friend at the very least. Out of all the people in her life, you're right up there at the _top_ of her list. Love is _exactly_ what she feels for y…"

"She _doesn't…_love me, Tucker. _Please_ stop. _Please_." Danny sounded more miserable than Tucker could ever recall in his entire life. "I don't know why you're trying to push us together, but you need to stop. It's not good for her."

"Bu…"

"_**And I don't care what you say! If you want to stay my friend then you'll drop it!"**_ He was practically screaming, and Tucker took an involuntary step back, heart racing. They stood for a moment, and Tucker realized he could feel the heat radiating off of Danny, he was so upset.

Danny finally spoke again, voice quiet, and hoarse. "I think…I need a nap. You should go take that over to Sam." His voice wobbled on her name, and Tucker found himself blinking rapidly to keep the tears from his eyes.

Danny started up the stairs.

Tucker didn't stop him. He didn't know what to say anyway.

* * *

Sam jumped when her cell phone went off, and launched herself off her bed, where she'd been doing…well, nothing. She had been trying to read a book earlier, and before that she'd been taking care of Nathaniel, but he was asleep now and had been for nearly an hour. And she'd given up on the book about twenty minutes ago, after re-reading the same sentence four times. If she was doing anything at all, really, she was waiting for something to happen; someone to call, someone to maybe show up…

It was Tucker's number. A wide smile flew onto her face. She was suddenly excited, and filled with nervous energy. "Tucker! So what's going on? It's like," she glanced at the clock, "it's past three o'clock. I kind of thought we'd be meeting up earlier in the day." There was a short pause as she waited for his answer, still grinning.

"Um, yeah. Sam?" There was another pause, and Sam was suddenly holding her breath. "Well, since I already had the bracelet, I went by Danny's, so he's already looked at it, actually." Tucker sounded too apologetic, and Sam exhaled slowly, horrified at how powerful the sinking feeling in her stomach was.

Hope lingered on, though. "So, what did he say?"

"Um, it checks out. You can use it." Tucker's tone shifted and he sounded suddenly happy, in a strained sort of way; she could almost feel the effort he was making. "So that's great! You don't have to worry so much about…you know, your parents finding anything out. Maybe they can even baby-sit for you someti…"

"So, are you guys bringing it over, or what? Not to cut you off, Tuck. Heh." She was clinging to the phone. _Please say yes…_

Tucker stopped walking, and stood stalk still, phone gripped in one hand. Here was the moment he'd been dreading, the reason why he'd been walking around Amity Park for over an hour in the freezing cold.

"Well, _I_ can head over right now, if you want, but…Danny's feeling a little under the weather…" They both knew it was a lie, but when it came down to it, he couldn't make himself tell her the truth.

Sam sighed, and all the tension went out of her. Now she just felt tired, and incredibly sad. She wanted to say something, but had to wait a moment, had to get control of her feelings, bury her crushed heart. _It doesn't mean anything! He's just feeling bad! He looked at the bracelet! _But deeper down she was thinking:_ yeah, __**right**_! She sighed again, almost violently, and forced herself to reign in the tears trying to fall.

"That's okay, Tucker. I mean, you don't have to rush over. But, you can come by now if you _want_, of course. But…" She tried to add "it's not a big deal," but the lump in her throat suddenly tripled. She swallowed.

Tucker was staring down at his feet, angry at Danny, and angry at himself. He didn't know what he should've done differently, but he felt like he'd failed her. And now she was over there on her phone _trying not to cry_.

Well, he could cheer her up, _right_? He grit his teeth, scrubbed at his face harshly a few times with his other hand, and put on a huge smile.

"Hey, I don't have anything to do! And don't tell me you wouldn't like to catch up on a few of those monster movies you missed? C'mon, I'll hop by the video store on the way over, we can order pizza…I've _really_ missed your totally awesome home theater, Sam…and we can test out the bracelet, of course."

There was a pause, then she finally spoke, soft and hesitant. "Um, we'll have to keep the sound fairly low, so it doesn't scare Nathaniel, and so I can hear him if he starts crying…and he'll have to be fairly nearby…"

"No problem."

"We might have to stop the movie a couple of times…"

"That just means I can drink more soda, since I'll have bathroom breaks."

Sam laughed a single laugh, a short, mostly airy sound. "Um…see you in a little while?"

"Great! I'll be there. Later, Sam."

"Later." Sam stared at the phone for a few seconds. She felt like someone had taken some of her most powerful emotions, both good and bad, and was shaking them around in a paper bag, like popcorn. She still felt really disappointed, and incredibly worried as the knowledge ate at her that now, there was absolutely _no doubt_, Danny was avoiding her. But this was pushed down, relieved a little by the thought of having a normal evening, doing the kinds of things she would've done over a year ago, of being able to completely and totally be herself, to laugh and relax with someone who _understood_ her and cared about her.

She didn't think she'd stop feeling upset, not deep down, but she could pretend for tonight. And one thing was certain: you absolutely _couldn't_ buy friends like Tucker.

* * *

Vlad sat pretending to read as he watched Daniel drinking down another glass of the serum he'd made for him. The stuff was helping his healing along tremendously, as he knew it would.

And this was a problem; his cumbersome casts, the ones on his arm and leg, had come off yesterday evening, to be replaced by more flexible bandages. He wasn't exactly mobile yet, but he'd get there soon.

This meant that he, _Vlad_, would have a rather unpredictable, very powerful, uniquely _dangerous_ ghost on his hands.

Vlad had taken him in for many reasons, the biggest being that he was convinced, after this older Daniel had _allowed_ himself to be so thoroughly beaten, that he truly had "turned over a new leaf," so to speak, and that Vlad himself wouldn't be in danger of imminent attack. And, obviously, if he could get this powerful person indebted to him, there was potential there. He hadn't decided exactly how he could _use_ him, but nevertheless.

But now Vlad was sitting with him, the morning after those casts had come off, suddenly realizing that he still needed to decide exactly how to deal with this strange future Daniel.

For the love of butter biscuits, what had he gotten himself _into_? He wanted to be down in the lab, checking up on Samantha and Nathaniel, to see how the bracelet he'd sent was working out, but this was something he couldn't put off dealing with any longer. Daniel, _this_ Daniel, was potentially very dangerous, for many different reasons.

At least there was one consoling tidbit. He'd discovered, by going carefully over his notes on the research he'd conducted and collected over the years, that this was _Daniel_ he was dealing with, and not some twisted version of _himself_. He'd put the pieces together over several days, but he enough to feel certain of this. It appeared that the act of two ghosts merging began much like a ghost overshadowing a human. After that things changed, as the ghostly body could only hold one personality, or, perhaps, a soul, though Vlad was shaky in expertise on that area at best.

It was clear to him, however, that Daniel had overshadowed his ghost half, which must've been separated from his human half as well, and…effectively…_pushed_ him out, while gaining the added power of his form and a few of his looks in the process. Thinking about it was still extremely disquieting for him, but at least he could rest assured that he was indeed dealing with some strange version of a future Daniel, and not…_himself_, or some disturbing combination.

Besides, he behaved so _much_ like Daniel that sometimes Vlad had to stop himself from calling him "my boy." Amazingly, he'd actually expected this Daniel, ten years older as he was, to show a good deal more maturity. Hah! But then, there had been _some_ change, hadn't there? He was calmer, if also much sadder sometimes, and oddly he seemed to genuinely like him, unlike _his_ Daniel.

Vlad glowered to himself at that thought, feeling unusually bitter. Things had never worked out between the two of them as they should have, and now the boy was nearly grown. But at least he had a new hope in Nathaniel.

"Vlad?" He glanced up to see Daniel's inquiring eyes, and the glass, now empty, held out for him to take away. Vlad took it, and handed over a glass of water in its place, to wash out the taste. He sat in silence as Daniel drank it down, still wondering how he was going to deal with this unexpected, though admittedly _invited_, guest.

Daniel smiled at him as he handed over the second glass, a genuinely happy look, and Vlad felt himself tense slightly. _This_ Daniel was so friendly, and trying to be so nice, that it put him on edge.

Daniel broke the silence. "So what is that you've been reading so quietly, anyway? I'll admit right now, I'm _dying_ for some conversation. I've hardly seen you around all week." His voice was genuinely happy too, and Vlad had to stop himself from glowering again. Somewhere deep down, he had the horrible feeling he was starting to feel guilty for thinking of this Daniel as a tool, when the boy, or man, with his horrible past, seemed truly happy for his company.

Fudge buckets! He didn't know how to _deal_ with this.

He smirked to cover his aggravation. "Oh, it's nothing you'd be interested in. It's a magazine I read to keep up with the business world, one of those things you have to do when you're a multi-billionaire." Ah, gloating, he was familiar with gloating.

Daniel raised his eyebrows, still smiling. "I wouldn't know. You're right. Heh, I never even got through high school, you know." He looked away for a moment, one of those melancholy looks passing over his face. "I wouldn't mind learning a few things now, Vlad. Catch up on life, as much as that's possible." He glanced back, smiling again, a somber hope shining in his eyes.

He really seemed genuinely…_content_. Vlad looked away, almost embarrassed by it. "Well, that will be rather difficult in your particular…state."

"You work with what you've got, right? Besides, I'm not exactly dead, I'm just not human." _That's what Clockwork had said, after all._ Danny didn't want to get into a discussion about ghost anatomy, though, so he didn't mention that. Besides, there were more important things on his mind. "I…," He stopped, not confident enough to come out directly with those thoughts just yet. "What _are_ you reading? There has to be something interesting there, you've spent most of an hour looking through it." He smiled again, and hoped the slight disappointment he was feeling didn't show through.

Danny knew Vlad was spending time with him because he wanted him as a possible tool, and not a close friend. But he wished that Vlad could see him as the boy he'd once been, that boy he'd helped through the worst year of his life, impossible as that was. Yet he knew _firsthand_ how kind Vlad could be, and how lonely he was.

Vlad was giving off waves of discomfort, though, and Danny had the horrible suspicion that he knew the truth about his ghost form. It would explain his strange nervousness, which was usually so alien to him. But he was a scientist, after all; it simply took the right question getting asked, or some obvious flaw in his story, and Vlad would research it to death to find out the truth.

Danny found he wasn't quite brave enough to confront him about it though, not yet.

Vlad was giving him a dubious look; he obviously found it hard to believe that Danny was genuinely interested in "Business Weekly."

"It talks about the stock market, new companies, business plans, things like that." He held the magazine out to him. Danny took it and started leafing through, taking care not to move his injured arm. Vlad leaned back, eyebrows up. "You must be more bored than I realized, if _that's_ interesting to you."

He looked up, grinning. "Well, maybe you just never knew about my burning desire to succeed in big business?" Actually, the stuff was dead boring to him, but he _needed_ to start learning, it wasn't a question of _wanting_ to.

Vlad pursed his lips, sarcasm seeping out. "_Right_." Then he went on, suddenly curious. "The last time I checked, I thought you wanted to be an astronaut?"

Danny's eyes widened slightly. Was his other self still interested in that? It had been so _long_…since he'd really thought about those old dreams. "I…is he still planning on that?" He smiled, trying to cover the strange feelings, tinged with sadness and regret, running through him. It was _odd_, talking about his other self. _Myself_. "Hopefully he's gotten better at math."

Vlad pursed his lips. "No, I don't believe so. I'm not very sure where he plans to take his life anymore, actually." He glanced away. "It's hardly important, anyway. He could've been something great, with the right people by his side, but he's decided on common mediocrity." He said it offhand, scoffing, as if it wasn't one of the biggest disappointments of his life.

They were both silent for a moment. A little more had come out there, perhaps, than either of them wanted to deal with. But Danny had very little that mattered in his life, and most of them focused on his family and friends, so he couldn't let the subject of his other self go so quickly. Surely Vlad still kept tabs, at least? And he was on talking terms with Sam, wasn't he?

"How's…how are they doing, by the way? Danny, Sam, Tucker. My parents. I know you're talking with Sam at least, right?" He knew he was treading on thin ground, bringing up so many delicate subjects for Vlad, but he had to know.

Vlad frowned, feeling a little angry. He hated all the lies he had to keep straight sometimes. "I rarely speak with her. One of the keys to remaining friendly is the knowledge that I keep my distance." Yes, why fly all the way over there when I have her on video surveillance?

"But knowing you, you probably keep some sort of watch on me? I mean Danny? Skulker, perhaps? Or one of those ancient vultures?" He chuckled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Crazy birds."

Vlad steepled his fingers, and looked over them, barely catching Danny's eye. "Perhaps. They're…adjusting. Samantha has just come home with a baby, after all. Daniel is brooding, as far as I can tell. He's good at that."

"Right." They fell silent again, as Danny thought. Of course, he knew himself, and _he'd_ be skulking, probably holed up in his room, so he _expected_ that. His other self would just have to work through things, he knew. But what about Sam? Would her parents understand about the baby? What would they assume? He could imagine; the kid was so obviously his, and the resemblance would only increase over time. He had a feeling his younger self was in for a world of pain, and probably wouldn't see it coming, either. He could be so _shortsighted_ sometimes!

Danny sighed. "Right." There wasn't anything he could do about that, was there? Not now. "So…how soon before I'm on my feet and ready for action?"

Vlad frowned, caught by surprise. "What _kind_ of action?"

Danny brushed over the suspicious remark, chuckling. "Oh, you know…walking, flying around without extreme pain of any sort…that kind of thing."

Vlad crossed his arms thoughtfully, glad to be off the previous subject. "Oh, I don't know. I'd give your bones perhaps a month, and the flesh wounds another week. That's a rough estimation, of course. So much depends on the individual, when you're dealing with ghosts. Of course they heal much more rapidly than humans, in any case."

Danny smiled. "Great news." He paused, feeling a little uncertain about what he needed to say; what he needed to ask. "Vlad…after I'm healed, what do you…think I should do with myself?" He pursed his lips ruefully, and added, "Of course, I owe you a huge debt, obviously…" He dropped off, waiting to see how seriously Vlad would take his question.

Vlad stared for a moment, not sure what to think. He had the feeling Daniel meant the question from, well, a _moral_ point of view, as if he wanted his opinion on a life altering decision. Or perhaps not. But he was feeling less than grumpy for the first time in hours; the question was somehow intriguing.

"But you're not talking about owing me favors, unless I'm mistaken?"

Danny looked down for a moment. "I…no." He sounded so serious. "I want to know. If you were me right now, in my position, what would you do with yourself?" He paused, but before Vlad could respond, he started talking again, a gently pleading tone in his voice. "A long time ago, Vlad, in…another world, you were a _mentor_ to me. I know you don't really understand why, but your opinion means a lot to me."

Again, Vlad felt uncomfortable. There was that look, that trusting, completely candid face, so similar, despite all its changes, to the boy he'd put so much time and energy into. So much of his life, and hopes for the future, for many years now, could be found in that face.

But this wasn't his Daniel, this full grown man, and full ghost. He'd had a different life, a different past, and had gone through horrors that Vlad himself had pondered over in the last week. He'd lain awake, late at night, sleeplessly wondering and trying not to imagine what it must've been like, to lose them all like that. He wasn't a stranger to loss, but not like _this_. Not at age fifteen. And not everyone he truly held dear.

He knew enough of loss to be able to truly contemplate what it must've been like, though. And now this scarred, darkened, _blue_ Daniel, as he'd started thinking of him, was asking him for life advice. As a mentor. Somewhere deep down, he knew barriers were dropping, walls he didn't want to fall were caving in, and _had_ been ever since their first conversation.

Vlad suppressed a sigh.

"Well. What would _I_ do with myself, hmm?" He looked back up, aware suddenly that despite the long pause he still hadn't given the question any thought. "Well, I don't know, I suppose it would depend on what I really wanted. And, of course, what I was willing to do to get it." He caught Daniel's eyes. "Do you know what you want, Daniel?"

"I want to make amends." The answer was almost immediate, and completely certain.

Vlad pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I want to do what I can to make things up to the people I've hurt. And the number…it's a lot of people."

"I…see." The sound in Daniel's voice, that dark note…Vlad found he wasn't brave enough to question further. Daniel had only _hinted_ at what he'd done in that ten year gap, but Vlad could guess what he'd done, and it hadn't been pretty.

Vlad also knew of Daniel's need for atonement, since he had a recording of the conversation he'd had with Samantha in her apartment over a week ago, before his younger counterpart had burst into the room. It had been the main reason he'd bothered to bring Daniel here in the first place; he believed what he'd said to her was sincere.

He'd promised no more violence. And had shown a poignant desire to be…a part of her life.

But Daniel didn't know he knew about that. And unwanted questions about video surveillance aside, it had been such a deeply personal conversation that Vlad knew he would _never_ tell him; it would be _mortifying_ to admit he'd been a spectator, albeit through his computer.

He frowned, knowing Daniel was waiting for words of wisdom to float from his mouth. "Have you thought about how you'd like to make amends?"

"I was…thinking about following in your footsteps, sort of." He sounded hesitant, and Vlad, again, could hear the question in the statement.

Still, what exactly did he mean by that? "Pardon?"

"I mean building my own fortune." Daniel was watching him like a hawk, trying to gauge his reaction. _Ah, of course. The other part of his promise to Samantha._

He decided to remain skeptical. "Which you can then use to make the world a better place, or some such nonsense."

Daniel seemed a little sheepish, but also completely sincere. "Well, _yes_. Except there's a problem." There was an expectant silence.

Vlad filled it after a moment, examining his nails. "Oh. _Really_?" He spoke slowly, as if bored.

Now that he was trying to ask the question, Danny realized just how nervous he was. So much depended on Vlad's answer! "Yeah. I know nothing about the stock market, not much anyway. Or companies. Or business in general, really. Heh." He resisted the sudden urge to rub the back of his head in embarrassment.

Vlad looked up at him with his eyes only. "And?"

"And…I was hoping you could coach me. Help me along, actually." Danny felt his mouth running ahead of his thoughts, as his sudden nervousness got the better of him. When had he, _ever_, asked Vlad for help, after all? "After I'm healed I'll hardly be a burden. But if I could maybe _learn_ from you…"

"You want me to teach you the ways of the rich and famous." Vlad couldn't keep the laughter from his voice; the boy…_man_ was so flustered.

Danny looked down at his hands, pulling an embarrassed face. "Just rich, actually." He looked up again, a lopsided smile forming on his face. "So, eh, how about it?"

Vlad stared at him for a moment, then pointed to the magazine he'd given him earlier. "Read that through. And I'll bring some other things for you to study." He smirked, unable to resist. "Because _that_, dear boy, explains a great deal about how I got where I am today. Studying the market, and the players in it. If it doesn't bore you to tears, we'll talk about possibly moving forward from there, agreed?"

Danny looked down at the magazine, and suppressed a sigh. _Lovely_. "Right." He was overjoyed Vlad had decided to help of course, or at least hadn't flat turned him down.

But deep down, he'd known that even if Vlad _did_ agree it would come to this, and had dreaded it. _Studying! _It was _still_ the bane of his existence.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm thinking the next chapter will be up fairly quickly; I've already gotten about four pages written on it. Yeah, I know this took a while, but...man, life happened. I love you guys, if I haven't said it, by the way. You really pick up my day._

_Laters, DPC._**  
**


	19. Barrier

** Author's Note: Bwahahahahaaaaa! Vaguest chapter title evarr! Behehehh...or not. I'm in a gooofy mood. 'Tis past midnight. **

**Anyway, I have an announcement or two! **

_Author's Note: A lovely, lovely person and fellow Danny Phantom fan by the name of Jaime has drawn a fanart for this story! It shows Dan, Sam, Vlad, Danny, and Nathaniel in various poses. Yay! I'm so excited! Woohoo! Fanart for my story! Everyone do the dance of joy with me! I have to tell youl it's been a secret hope of mine that someone would be interested enough to draw something from my story, so this is beyond awesome! Anyway, I will put a link up to the fanart, probably, but ironically I just realized that there's a tiny snafu, and I need to clarify if it's alright with Jaime first...eheheh... Anyway, she's also starting on her own Danny Phantom story, so check her out. I believe her fanfiction dot net profile is daydreamr'girl!_

* * *

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter 19: Barrier**

Sam sat in Mr. Lancer's classroom, vaguely attempting to concentrate on his lecture. Unfortunately she was slightly distracted.

Ah, who was she kidding? The lecture was going in one ear and out the other! Oh well, she'd just…catch up…later…

She glanced secretively over to the young man sitting a few desks away from her, and was forced, once again, to hide a tiny smile under her hand.

Who would've thought _Danny_ would be here, on her first day of tutoring? This was perfect! She'd been worrying more and more over the past week about exactly how she was going to get close to him again, since she wouldn't be seeing him in school regularly anymore.

In order to catch up faster, and because of Nathaniel, Sam had opted to be tutored, and Mr. Lancer was her only out-of-home tutor. Her lessons with him had only been arranged a few days ago, when she'd finally decided Vlad's gift could be trusted. Because of that bracelet's ability to suppress Nathaniel's ghost powers, leaving him with her parents for a few hours everyday was alright. And since Mr. Lancer's tutoring took place directly after the regular school day, this also meant that she had nearly two hours out of the house and away from dirty diapers in the afternoons, at least on Mondays through Thursdays. She loved her son dearly, but there were some things she could _definitely_ take a break from.

So overall, tutoring with Mr. Lancer had been fine. The only problem was that Danny, who was intensely important to her, would've been cut out of her everyday life. She wouldn't be seeing him casually, like she used to during classes, at lunch, or after school. As such, she wouldn't have had that protective social buffer that, deep down, she had _really_ been counting on, and without it she hadn't been feeling so brave, despite all her promises to herself that she'd do whatever it took to get Danny back into her life again, even if it meant being incredibly forward. She _could_ just invite herself over to his house, for instance, but that would be incredibly awkward.

But now none of that mattered because he was _here_, in tutoring with her! Mr. Lancer had said so before starting in on the lesson; Danny would be right here with her for the rest of the semester, trying to make up for failing so many things in the fall.

Not that his doing poorly at school was a good thing. But he was here, and they could walk home together after lessons, and maybe study together some…which was awesome, because it was the _perfect_ excuse to spend time with him!

Of course, it was true that he hadn't actually looked at her yet, except once when he'd walked in, which was kind of distressing. _Hmm_. Sam looked over at him again, wondering at his strange behavior. She studied him out of the corner of her eye for a moment.

Actually, he looked incredibly serious, and rather tired, now that she was really looking closely. He was clearly feeling more than just typical shyness, as she'd first assumed. A muscle in Danny's jaw jumped, and Sam hurriedly looked back down at her notes. He seemed _really_ tense, but even though he _knew_ she was watching him, he'd refused to look up.

Of course, Tucker had warned her that Danny was still reeling from everything that had happened. She'd gotten the impression that he and Danny had talked, or rather yelled about her, and were both now avoiding certain topics around each other. Not that she'd talked to Danny about this, or anything at all, not since …Idaho. She'd learned it second hand from Tucker and Jazz.

And neither of them had said anything outright about the argument or what it had been about. She'd had to surmise everything, which meant they'd been trying to keep it a secret from her, and _that_ meant the fight was probably _about_ her. Sam worried her lip a little, suddenly nervous. She ducked her head down and stole another look at Danny, who was still studiously taking notes.

She frowned, brow furrowing. Why wouldn't he even _look_ at her?

_Get a grip!_ Sam stared down at her notes and forced herself to relax, suddenly angry at herself. What was the point in worrying? So he was concentrating on taking notes, was that a _crime_? So maybe he was shy around her right now, was that _really_ surprising? She'd just grab him after the lesson and get him to talk to her a little, try to work a couple of things out between them, and hopefully, she could get him to loosen up. This was _Danny_ after all; she'd known him forever.

They'd just walk and talk for awhile, and make some jokes, and hopefully get back into some sort of groove with one another. She wanted to make him smile, and see those beautiful blue eyes light up again. She'd missed those eyes and that smile so _much_. And he had that special way he'd look just at her sometimes that she loved more than anything. They wouldn't have to talk about anything _really_ serious just yet, just…hang out for a while, like old times.

Before long Sam was smiling again, lost in her daydream, as the tutoring session (which wasn't nearly as productive as it should have been) slowly moved to a conclusion. Mr. Lancer gave Sam some homework, and she headed out the door. Then she waited just outside the classroom as Danny was given a few reminders about his regular class assignments.

She smiled at him as he came out several moments later, managing to catch his gaze for an instant, but he looked away quickly. His face seemed momentarily shocked, as though he was surprised to find her waiting for him. She felt mildly amazed herself, and suddenly very afraid, as all the assumptions she'd made about him fell away. Had he _actually_ expected her to leave without him? She watched, struck mute for a moment, as he walked past her, and she turned to follow him with her eyes. The tenseness she'd noticed in the classroom had tripled; it _radiated_ off him.

Danny was glancing back and forth along the hallway before Sam found her voice again. She smiled shyly, and tried to get his attention. "Hey…"

And then he vanished.

Sam stood there, shocked. She couldn't speak. But she knew it wouldn't have mattered, because he was probably half a mile away already.

A minute passed, and she heard Mr. Lancer come out from his classroom and lock the door behind him. She turned slowly to watch him as he put his keys in his pocket.

"Oh, Ms. Manson…" Mr. Lancer's eye flicked behind her. He was surprised that Danny wasn't with her, and obviously embarrassed for her, though he was trying his best to cover it. He thought she'd be off with Danny by now, hadn't he? Her mind numbly informed her that that's what _she_ thought was going to happen, too.

"Did you have a question?" He shuffled his feet.

She swallowed, and forced herself to focus on him. "Um, no. Have…a nice day." She turned, mechanically, and started slowly down the hallway. She clasped her arms tightly around her. She stumbled slightly, and slowed even more. She was gasping, and she realized that her heart was racing. For a few moments she saw grey at the edge of her vision, so she stopped and took several deep breaths. She recognized that if she didn't she might pass out.

She walked home slowly after that, arms folded around her. She didn't cry until she reached the safety of her room.

* * *

"So…you'll talk to him?" Jazz's voice wobbled.

"Yeah. I'll talk to him. Just get your parents out of the house. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Later." Tucker sighed. Jazz very rarely got this upset, and it was always for a good reason.

They'd both worked to get Sam and Danny an excuse to spend a little time together through those shared tutoring lessons, which had started today. But things had _not_ started out well, and now Jazz, after talking with Sam on the phone and apparently wheedling things out of her, was too upset to talk to Danny about how he'd behaved.

As for himself, Tucker was furious. But maybe a little righteous anger was a _good_ thing sometimes.

* * *

Danny sat in his bedroom at his computer desk, head in his hands. His homework was out, but untouched. He was too confused and worried to focus on it.

It had been an incredible shock when he saw Sam today. He'd _nearly_ walked right back out of the classroom. But Mr. Lancer was right there, and his parents would've had his hide if he'd skipped out right in front of the teacher, especially now that they knew just how badly he was failing.

But why? _Why_ did he have to get stuck in tutoring with Sam of all people, right when he was trying his hardest to…to _spare_ her the pain of his presence?

So he'd done the next best thing today, and ignored her, in order to let her know that she didn't have to deal with him. He wouldn't be a _thorn_ in her side. He'd tried his best not to look at her, or speak to her, or make any other sort of contact, so that she could pretend he wasn't even there. And afterwards, he'd even loafed around longer than necessary so she'd have plenty of time to leave.

Only, she'd been _waiting_ for him when he came out! Danny frowned hard, rubbing his face to clear his head. He felt exhausted. Ever since the fight with Tucker a week ago, he'd been going to sit up on Sam's roof at night to look over her.

He was _drawn_ there. He couldn't help it. He'd probably spend _more_ time guarding her if his parents weren't breathing down his neck because of his grades. But even though he partially wished he could run away from _everything_ for the rest of his life, the fear he felt for Sam was _much_ more powerful. The possibility that his, his…older self might return at any time _ate_ at him. But that didn't mean he would burden her by asking to be a part of her life again; he _wouldn't_ put her through that. That's what Tucker just didn't _understand_.

Besides, Sam _couldn't_ have been waiting for him today. She did _not_ want to see him. She was...Danny massaged his temples, trying to think…there had to be an explanation. She was…just heading back to ask Mr. Lancer a question she forgot, and had thought he was _him_ for a second. Ah. That had to be it. Danny lowered his hands, letting his head fall limp for a moment, somehow feeling even sadder than he was a moment ago.

But at least he'd figured it out. His lip curled back in self mockery at his own patheticness, and he gave a cynical bark of a laugh. Deep down, despite all the effort he'd been making to let go of his sad little dreams of him and her, he was _still_ fixated, wasn't he? He was still hopeful that she might understand, might still…

Danny growled deep in his throat, forcing himself to cut off the pain filled, wistful thoughts. She would never wait for _him_, Danny Fenton, and _Phantom_. If she felt anything for him now, it was loathing. Danny closed his eyes tightly as another wave of dull, leaden depression moved through him. It was an all too familiar emotion.

Yet the tiny thought, however he tried to bury it, forced its way to the front of his mind again. Maybe…maybe he _was_ wrong. Hadn't he heard, for an instant…

Just as he'd been leaving, hadn't she called out to him?

Danny sighed, sitting up, and looked up at the ceiling as if for guidance, or strength. He was such a fool. She _couldn't_ still like him, not after everything that had happened to her. She'd spent a year roughing it on her own, having a _baby_ on her own, with Vlad of all people breathing down her neck! Never mind the…never mind the horror of…

Danny groaned to himself, and ground the palms of his hands into his eyes. He got up, only to throw himself on the bed, stomach first, and slowly beat his head against the mattress in an attempt to banish the thoughts welling up in his mind. They came anyway.

It must've been so horrible, so _horrible_; he had those red eyes, and he was so strong, and there was that _forked tongue_...

Danny shook his head violently, teeth clenched. He didn't want to _think about it! _But it was hard to ignore the nightmares, and even _he_ had to sleep sometime. And it seemed the more he tried to not think about it, the more nightmares he had…about the fight, about Clockwork, but _especially_, after his confrontation with Tucker…about _her_, and what his other self had put her through. His subconscious mind seemed fixated, turning it around and around…

And had he _actually_ though a minute ago that she could be _interested_ in him? _Happy_ to see him? Danny withered visibly, ashamed that he'd let himself think that even for a moment. He _needed_ to stay away from her, had already decided that was for the best. Just seeing him had to be painful for her.

He'd remembered, in retrospect, how she'd tensed up, looking so panicked when he'd first run up to her at the grocery store in Idaho. And she'd _cried_, too. A sarcastic thought twisted through his head like a poisonous snake: _And you thought it was because she was happy to __**see**__ you! _ If only he could take it back, and get out of tutoring with her somehow as well!

Danny sighed, and relaxed a little on the bed, aching with exhaustion. He needed to catch a little sleep. But first, he _needed_ to banish her from his thoughts or he'd just have nightmares…

There was a knock at the door. He pulled himself up slowly. "Yes?"

"It's Tucker." Danny sat up completely, feeling somewhat surprised. Tucker hadn't called or messaged, or anything.

"Come in, Tuck." Danny was also surprised at how polite Tucker was being, but that thought left as he saw the deadly serious look on his friend's face, and worry sprang up instead.

Tucker almost _never_ looked this serious. Danny jumped up, ready to go ghost, adrenaline pumping. "What's wrong? Tucker, what's the _problem_…?" _He came for her while I was away! I __**know**__ it…_

Tucker gave him a dirty look, and closed the door behind him, taking his time. "Calm _down_, Danny." He went to sit at his computer chair, turning it to face the bed.

_Oh_. He was just…mad. Danny thought he could feel the room temperature drop by a few dozen degrees due to the cold look Tucker was giving him alone. His friend sat in stony silence, arms crossed.

Danny dropped his stance and smiled tightly, panic being replaced with growing nervousness. He didn't think he could take Tucker being angry with him right now. "Need me to get the crowbar? Your arms are crossed so tight, it looks like they froze togeth…"

"Shut up." Danny he drew back, suddenly defensive. He didn't want a fight; couldn't _deal_ with a fight. But their last argument, it had never really been resolved, _had_ it? They'd just been avoiding talking about her.

"Tucker, if you're going to talk to me about Sam again, I d…"

"Shut UP! _Why_…" Tucker clenched his jaw, and lowered his voice, "are you such an _idiot_?" Danny stared at him, his stomach dropping out from under him. Tucker was truly upset with him.

Deep down Danny was terrified, as his mind grasped for the reason behind it. _Why_? Why the anger, the disgust, the look of betrayal?

Then somehow it all clicked, and Danny realized _exactly_ what was going on, even as the boiling terror was replaced by a cold dread. He backed up further and sat back down on his bed, slowly.

Tucker had _finally understood_. He'd finally _recognized_ the facts. He, Danny, really _was_ to blame for what had happened to Sam! It was _his_ fault it had happened! And now Tucker was here to _condemn_ him!

Part of Danny felt like he deserved it, but to actually have Tucker here, about to throw it all in his face…he felt himself convulsively grab the bed sheets with both hands, horrified and terrified, yet trying not to show Tucker just how weak he was, how much he longed to run away before his world was further torn apart as he lost not one but _both_ best friends.

Tucker stared hard at Danny, and some of his anger melted away into confusion at his friend's panicked behavior. He hadn't even started _yelling_ at him yet! But even Danny's unexpected terror didn't change what he had to say.

"What the hell were you thinking, Danny?" He growled it, angry that Danny wouldn't even meet his eyes. "_Look_ at me! Do you have any idea how much your behavior hurt Sam?" Tucker watched, incredulous, as Danny literally tore a piece out of his covers in a convulsive motion. _What the hell?_ How could he feel so bad now and do what he did just a few hours ago? "Danny! Are we on the same wavelength here? _Now_ you feel guilty? What about a few hours ago, when you left Sam high and dry? Do you have any idea how that made her feel…?"

Tucker paused, amazed when Danny's behavior changed abruptly. His friend had _obviously_ plunged off the deep end! First he looked as though he wanted to dig his way into the mattress of his bed, and _now_ he was sitting perfectly still, face completely blank except for the wide staring eyes, which were still focused on the floor. _What…?_

"Tucker." Danny's voice was quiet, and slightly hoarse. "_Tucker_." He sounded like he was floundering for a lifeline.

Tucker glowered, still angry, and tried not to show his rising concern. Right now he was worried about _Sam_, not Danny! "Spit it _out_."

"What is this…what are you here for?" Tucker couldn't help stare, at the question and at its oddly hopeful tone.

"What do you _mean_? I'm _here_ because when you flew off after Lancer's tutoring today, without even giving Sam the time of _day_, all her hopes about finally spending time with you for the first time in almost a _year_ came crashing down! I _told_ you she misses you, she cares about you, and you act like _this_! Even after what you told me…I didn't think you'd really _do_ this, Danny!" Tucker had found his anger again, and Danny's look of surprise, with hardly any guilt, only made him angrier. He lowered his voice, willing Danny to understand his words, to feel the pain Sam was going through right now. "Jazz called me, Danny. Do you know Sam feels ashamed? _Our_ Sam feels ashamed! _Listen to what I'm telling you._ Do you _understand_ me? She feels like you don't want to be around her anymore, because she has a baby, maybe, or _I_ don't know why, but Jazz could _tell_ that she was somehow blaming _herself_ for your crappy behavior! Is that _fair_?"

But Danny only looked incredibly surprised, his eyes still wide and staring, and it _completely_ drove Tucker up the wall. He wasn't even clenching his hands anymore! They just lay there in his lap, limp! Tucker stood up, stepped over, and grabbed his shoulders roughly. "Danny!" He shook him once, angry enough to be violent. He stood tense, not knowing what he'd do if there was _still_ no reaction.

Danny slowly reached up, and removed Tucker's hands from his shoulders, gently. Tucker didn't resist; Danny was finally looking him in the face, those blue eyes intense, but strangely distant.

"Tucker. Of…course I'm sorry." He frowned softly. "I'm _incredibly_ sorry. I just…" He looked away, his expression strangely subdued, and his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "She was _really_ looking forward to spending time with me?"

Tucker stared at him for a moment, unbelieving. Nothing they said seemed to connect today. He'd never felt so _clueless_ about what Danny was thinking before. "_Yes_, Danny." He backpedaled, sitting down in the chair again, confounded by the whole conversation.

"She wants to spend time with me. _Me_, Tucker? Doesn't she…" Danny looked at him briefly, pain in his eyes. "You know…"

"No, I _don't_ know. I'm _completely_ confused. You almost go crazy with guilt, or nerves or something when I come in, then you look almost _happy_ when I start screaming at you…and now you're asking me…what? If Sam _cares_ about you? If she _hates_ you?" Tucker rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I _know_ you're dense sometimes, but I didn't think you were stupid enough to…"

"Tucker!" Danny sounded desperate. "_Please_. I _know_ this may seem crazy to you, but I need to know that Jazz didn't put you up to this or something. I _need_ to know the absolute truth. My feelings _don't_ matter! I need to make my _own_ decisions, and I need the _facts_ to do that." He paused, suddenly nervous, voice dropping again. "I need to know if…" He frowned deeply, his eyes searching, and afraid. "Does Sam _really_…not hate me?"

Tucker could only stare for a few moments, as he finally realized where Danny was coming from, and what had led to his behavior. He couldn't help feeling flabbergasted. What had been running through Danny's head over the last two weeks? Had he _actually_ convinced himself that Sam _hated_ him?

Tucker felt the anger leave his frame, and his face. He looked down at the ground, collecting his thoughts and emotions. But _why_ hadn't Danny listened to what he said last week, about Sam loving him? Tucker's chest tightened as he realized just how big the hole his friend had been digging for himself was. Just _what_ was he blaming himself for? He realized that he didn't know what it would be like, not really, having his very own look-alike goon loose in the world, hurting your loved ones…

How much did Danny take on himself?

Tucker sighed; a sad, drawn out sound. It was miserable how difficult Danny's life had become over the last year. And to have some twisted version of _himself_ be the one responsible for it all…Tucker hadn't thought, hadn't _realized_ how that had to be effecting him.

Yet for some reason, probably because of his encounter with Sam earlier, Danny was now willing to _listen_ to him about her, when he hadn't been before, and Tucker wasn't going to miss this chance to pull him out of the funk he'd fallen into.

Tucker looked up, feeling a pang of pity for his friend when he saw how truly wretched he looked, but tried not to show it. "Danny, what I said before, _every_ word about Sam and her feelings for you, it _was_ the absolute truth. You want it, well, I already _gave_ it to you. What kind of friend would I be if I couldn't be truthful, especially about something like this? And I'm not trying to manipulate you or something." He gave a weak laugh. "Who do you take me for, _Vlad_? I'm just…I want to see my best friend again, instead of this weepy, pathetic crybaby…"

"Heh." Danny chuckled softly, though his face looked ironically close to tears. "If _that's_ not manipulative I don't know what is, calling me a crybaby."

Tucker grinned a little too widely, desperate to lighten up the situation. "_That_ type's allowed. That's your everyday _straightforward_ manipulation, used by your common third grader. By the time you reach high school, it doesn't even count as _real_ manipulation, since it's so blatantly _obvious_. Except for people like Dash, and we all know where _he's_ going after high school."

"The Nasty Burger." They said it simultaneously, and couldn't help laugh slightly. It was cruel, but after years of torment at the hands of Dash neither felt too guilty about it.

Danny sighed, the moment wearing off quickly. "Yeah, but I'll probably be joining him there unless I _really_ bring my grades up, Tuck."

Tucker's grin faded a little as he grew serous again. "You can do it. You're smart, when you want to be." He paused, and then couldn't resist going on. "I just don't understand how you could think Sam _hates_ you!" He paused, the next words on his mouth failing when he saw Danny's troubled look. "You're _still_ not convinced, are you?"

"I…" Danny looked down at his hands, and didn't say anything for a few moments. Whatever was on his mind, Tucker realized, it was something big, and also something that was hard for him to talk about.

"He and I…you know, _him_…"

Tucker's thoughts darkened. "Yeah, I know."

Danny swallowed, glancing up for a fraction of a second. "We…look so similar, we _sound_ identical…" He finally looked up for real, his face a mask of anguish. "How can she not think of _him_ when she sees _me_? It has to drive her crazy!"

Tucker crossed his arms again, looking away to think. Part of him couldn't believe Danny could be this clueless. But maybe it was natural; maybe _he'd_ be thinking the same thing in Danny's shoes, but it still bothered him. Guilt didn't come naturally to Danny. He could get up tight about things, but when it came to taking the blame, he usually knew how much fell squarely on his own shoulders, and how much _didn't_. But he seemed to _really believe_ he needed to save Sam from himself. Tucker's face fell a little as pity washed through him.

He looked back, brows furrowed, and tried to mask his feelings with exasperation. "_So_. What you're saying is that _one_ day with him, however bad it was, completely obliterated the years and _years_ of good memories she has with _you_?" Tucker tried not to roll his eyes, as something else occurred to him. "And how dumb do you think Sam _is_, anyway? He has flaming hair, and _red eyes_, Danny! And blue skin! And physical stuff aside, do you _really_ think she can't make the distinction between you two?" Tucker raised his left hand. "On one side we have the psycho full ghost who tried to kill us all," he raised his right hand, "and on the other side we have the half ghost, half human boy…"

"Teenager…"

"…who has protected our homes from danger for _years_, and has been my best friend _for_ _years_." Tucker finally let himself roll his eyes. "Though I think you get the point."

Danny looked down at his hands again, sheepishly. "Yeah, but…but think of the trauma and stuff, and it's not like she can forget about it. She has a _baby_."

Tucker raised his eyebrows at the tone of his voice. "She's crazy about Nathaniel, you know, if you haven't noticed. And…you remember what his name means?"

Danny looked up, confused. "No. What?"

"_I_ remember. It means 'Gift of God'. I don't think that's a coincidence, Danny. In fact, I _know_ it's not, because I know Sam."

"I…" Danny didn't know what to say, so he just sat, thinking.

It didn't make sense to him, it just…didn't make any _sense_. How could she be so, so…strong? Or _something_, anyway? He realized he didn't _really_ know what she'd been through, or how she'd coped, or how she was feeling or _anything_. Everything was _completely_ different from how he'd imagined it.

But only one thing really struck him, if it was really, _really_ the truth. Sam didn't hate him, somehow.

Somehow, Sam _didn't_ hate him. At least, not completely.

Tucker spoke softly, with a sardonic edge to his voice. "Are we finally on the same wavelength now?"

Danny looked up slowly, focusing on his friend. His true blue, solid, _wonderful_ best friend. "_Yeah_, Tucker. Yeah. We are."

They stared at each other for a few moments, eyes tired, and slowly they both smiled. It grew until they were both grinning, and laughing, as an enormous wave of tension and negative energy was released in one go. After a few moments they calmed down again, sitting in a comfortable, and for the first time in months, fairly happy silence.

"Dude, you totally need to make it up to Sam, how you treated her today. You know she's _completely_ depressed."

Danny's face pole vaulted. "Sam!" His hands went to his head as he stood up and began pacing the room. "What was I _thinking_!"

Tucker coughed, and added under his breath, "You weren't. _Ahem_."

Danny glared daggers at him, and Tucker raised his hands. "Just clearing my throat!"

"_Tucker_! How am I going to make this _up_ to her? I was a complete jerk! And…" His face fell, his hands still in his hair. "Tucker…I'm still…"

"What?"

"I'm just, it's not comfortable. I don't know if I can be around her, if I can just brush _over_ everything, even if she can. It's just…it _looms_ all the time, it's all I _think_ about." He stopped suddenly, feeling like he'd said too much. The irony was that that was just the tip of the iceberg, that there were so many _other_ things that haunted him; things he couldn't talk about _ever_, not even to Tucker.

Tucker took a moment to respond, breathing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Maybe…maybe he would talk to Jazz later. Something about Danny was too extreme, and it bothered him. He'd fallen to pieces, hardly sleeping. He was verging on clinically depressed, and now even when he _realized_ he'd hurt Sam today, he still couldn't find the strength to be around her?

"I…_know_ it's not exactly the same Danny, but you're _not_ the only one. I think about what happened too. I've had nightmares. I'll probably keep having them for a while. But, I guess I know that Sam went through more than _anyone_ and that I can't be weak around her, not when she's being so strong herself. She doesn't _need_ that. And…" Tucker paused, frowning, and swallowed. "It's only been two weeks for us. She's been working through this for a year. We're still getting through the _shock_, you know?"

Danny lowered his hands slowly, and sighed, feeling ridiculously tired. He had to be running on nerves and adrenaline and nothing _else_ at this point, and the nerves were about to give out. He couldn't take many more emotional ups and downs, yet this turn in the conversation promised plenty more.

This was first time he and Tucker had really talked about what had happened to Sam like this. And talking to Tucker, while he knew it would help ground him, would also help further solidify what had happened. _All_ of it.

Including the things that had led to his nearly _killing_ his other self two weeks ago; the conversations he'd never tell anyone about, even under pain of torture. The…_accusation_ Clockwork had made, about him and his twisted older double, and their relationship. That…that they were one and the same.

Danny shuddered. Somehow, he didn't think Tucker's nightmares were anything as disturbing as his own. Yet it still helped, even if it was a selfish feeling, to know that Tucker was there with him, going through some form of shock as well.

And they _were_ still in shock, weren't they? Tucker was right. Danny knew it was a slightly desperate thought, but still; he might not _always_ feel like this, right? Soon the words he told himself everyday would sink in; he'd truly _recognize_ Clockwork's accusations as the lies they had to be. _Soon_, he'd feel less guilty, the nightmares would stop, and he'd be able to stop _fixating_.

"I guess, for us, it really _is_ like it happened two weeks ago, huh?" Danny walked back over to his bed, slumping down on it, dead tired and wound tight at the same time.

Tucker sat back as well. They were both feeling deflated from the conversation, and from the craziness of the past few weeks. "Yeah. And I think she knows that, sort of. That's why she hasn't been ringing you up twenty-four seven to confront you about avoiding her."

"Yeah." Actually, Danny hadn't thought of that at all. He'd _thought_ she wanted him to drop off the face of the earth.

"So…" Tucker sounded expectant.

"So?" Danny looked up blearily.

"_So_, are you going to start hanging out with Sam again?"

"I…" Danny looked away miserably. "Look, can't _you_ tell her I don't hate her, Tucker? Let her know I didn't mean it? I just." He paused, face tight. "I need more than _two weeks_ to make this better. But…" He looked up again, brows furrowed. "To make up for today, I can walk her home tomorrow, i-if she wants." Danny looked down at his hands, blushing slightly.

Tucker suppressed a sigh. "I guess I can call her. And you'll definitely walk her home tomorrow?"

"Um, yeah." Danny glanced up nervously. "If she wants."

_Yes, she'll want to, you idiot! _But screaming that in his face wouldn't do any good. Tucker thought fast, and an idea came to him. "You know, it might not be a bad idea for you to stay close to Sam for other reasons."

Danny's face was blank. "Like what?"

Tucker raised his eyebrows. "Like protection! You're the only one here with _ghost powers_, Danny. And Vlad seems a little too interested in Nathaniel, if you haven't noticed."

Danny's eyes widened. He hadn't thought about it, but being in tutoring with Sam _would_ allow him to keep watch over her more of the time. And walking home; that was a dangerous time for her, alone outside. Seeing her home might not be such a bad idea. Actually, he needed to find out if she had any _other_ times she was away from home, so he could watch over her then too. And walking her home would also give him an opportunity to give her the panic device (it looked like a wristwatch) his parents had designed years ago. He'd wear the mate, and she only had to press a button to signal him. Actually, this was _perfect_…

Danny looked up again as he felt someone's eyes on him, realizing he'd gone into his own little world, and caught Tucker's puzzled look. That was right, Tucker didn't know about his night vigils on Sam's roof, and Danny wasn't about to tell him. He tried to look more surprised. "You're _right_, Tucker. I haven't been thinking, _again_."

Tucker watched his friend for a few moments more. He'd looked really _calculating_ there for a minute. But still, Tucker felt hopeful. _This_ was true manipulation, and sometimes it came in extremely handy. So maybe Danny would be acting as guard dog, but he'd still be spending more time around Sam, right? It was a step forward.

_Speaking of time…_ "Look, I'm sorry to cut and run Danny, but I don't want to get caught here when your parents get back."

"Um yeah, it's a good thing they weren't here when you came, isn't it? Actually, they got called off to the movie theater to check out "ghost-like activity", or something. They yelled up the stairs about it before they left…" Danny's eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious.

"I kinda wanted you alone when I yelled at you. Heheh." Tucker grinned sheepishly. "But seeing as how your grades are in the dumps, my being here when they get back will probably get you in trouble…so I'm hightailing it out of here." Tucker hopped up and headed for the door, throwing a grin and a wave as he went out. "Later, Danny!"

"Later." Danny smiled in response for a moment, then flopped back on the bed again, trying to think over the conversation. Exhaustion finally caught up with him though, and he was asleep in only a few minutes, having just enough time to start worrying about the walk with Sam tomorrow.

* * *

Vlad sat in his lab, watching the live video feed to Samantha Manson's bedroom. It was two in the morning. Normally he'd be scanning through her day right about now in another video window with _this_ one open in the background, since he was hardly interested in watching the girl sleep. But tonight was different.

She'd had a nightmare, screaming in her sleep. He always kept the sound on (he'd had a microphone installed in her room as well), albeit turned fairly low. And a few minutes ago she'd let out quite a screech. She might've been working up to it, tossing and turning first. He couldn't say without looking back over the video, which he wasn't going to bother with. Unless he was mistaken though, this was the first time she'd had a nightmare strong enough to make her scream since moving back to Amity.

But this was all beside the point.

The _point_ was that _Daniel_ was standing there in her room, watching her. Nearly as soon as Vlad had brought the live feed window up to the top, after hearing her scream, the boy had come through the ceiling, fists filled with ecto-energy, obviously ready for a fight.

A few minutes had passed, Daniel's initial tension had faded, and now he simply stood there, staring down at her. Observing him like this, even Vlad had to admit the boy looked worn down and saddened _far_ beyond his years. Was this the same child he remembered from a few years ago? He looked more like his older ghostly self than ever.

But tonight confirmed Vlad's little theory, in any case. He'd been _suspicious_ that the boy was watching over Samantha at night, and now here was the proof. Daniel had appointed himself personal watchdog, and it was sure to complicate any plans Vlad would enact when it came time to take Nathaniel for his own.

Vlad pursed his lips, brow furrowing as he continued to study the boy, and his plans for the future dropped to the back of his mind. He found himself thinking, instead, about Daniel's behavior as of late. How many nights had the boy been _doing_ this, exactly? Vlad guessed he'd begun only a few days after returning from the Idaho escapade, which meant he'd been at it for at least two weeks now.

No wonder he looked so worn. Was he getting any sleep at _all_? Of course, Vlad knew from experience that they (himself and Daniel, since the boy was also a halfa) could go for days on a single hour of sleep a night with hardly any ill effects. Vlad himself only needed about three hours every night to be fresh and alert. As such, true sleep deprivation took _considerably_ longer to achieve for them, and was practically impossible for full ghosts. But the boy had managed it; that was clear. He was probably having waking dreams at this point, if Vlad was any judge (and he was).

He blinked, as a sudden motion on the screen caught his eye. Daniel had risen suddenly into the air. Vlad watched, transfixed. The boy (_young man_, the back of his mind informed him) was floating forward, drawing closer to Samantha's sleeping form. He came very near, his face only a few feet away from hers, and then leaned over slightly, gazing intensely at her face. Daniel looked as though he was searching for something there, his brow furrowed in concentration. Perhaps he was wondering at what had caused her nightmare?

But now her face was surprisingly serene. Her breathing had already steadied, moving back into the slow, comforting sounds of deep sleep. Vlad was suddenly struck with nostalgia, watching them both; watching that strange, sad look growing on the boy's face, and for a moment he actually felt like an intruder.

The scene reminded him of a wistful daydream he had sometimes, and even as he thought of it, the dream rose quickly in his mind, in all the detail he'd ever given it. He saw himself lying awake in bed, feeling complete, calm, _happy_, as he listened to the soothing sounds of Maddie sleeping close by. And that was the whole daydream; just a moment in time, really.

Vlad buried the little fantasy just as quickly as it had risen, angry with himself. He would _not_ dwell on that tonight. He leaned back in his chair as the dream faded completely from his mind. As he watched, Daniel straightened up as well, his face closing off again, and a moment later he rose up through the ceiling, undoubtedly to resume his post on the roof above Samantha's room.

After a moment Vlad started closing up the video files. He felt uncharacteristically tired of this whole complicated business. He was spending his nights secretly watching Nathaniel, mostly in the hopes of catching further ghostly changes. He was also trying to rework his plans for gaining the child now that Samantha was back in Amity, and, of course, now he had to factor Daniel into it. _Both_ of them.

Vlad's shoulders sagged a little.

What had he gotten himself _into_ this time? He certainly hadn't thought things out like he usually did when he'd retrieved Daniel's future self from the Ghost Zone. He'd only had vague thoughts of manipulating him against his younger self, or using him in some other fashion, perhaps to gain Nathaniel. But for now the ghost was simply here in the mansion with him, taking time and energy away from other things, and…

Well. It was sapping him, just a bit. _This_ Daniel was more mature and generally less rude, and…he was so many of the things he'd hoped the Daniel of this time would grow to be. He seemed to _genuinely_ enjoy his company, which, if Vlad were less cynical when it came to Daniel, he would find very touching. Yet even with that barrier in place, it was becoming harder every day to stay emotionally detached from him.

Being around him was saddening as well. He could almost feel the losses this Daniel had suffered, and something in that sadness resonated with him. There was an emotional hole there that desperately needed filling, and Vlad felt himself wanting to…what? Give the fool a _hug_?

_Butter biscuits!_ Vlad leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples, and looked at the now blank computer screen.

Maybe he just…needed a vacation from everything, like a normal person? A moment passed as the thought sank in, and then he chuckled sarcastically. _I'm not a normal person, and I never will be_. If Vlad had been listening to himself laugh, he might've realized just how sad it sounded.

No. A vacation wouldn't gain him _any_ of the things he wanted. He'd just sleep a little longer tonight, and catch up on scanning through the video feeds tomorrow night.

* * *

Sam put a hand to her temple, massaging it to help alleviate the minor headache she'd had for hours. She was tired, having slept poorly again, and jittery because in a few minutes the lesson with Mr. Lancer would be over and she'd finally be confronting the source of her sleeplessness, one Danny Fenton.

He'd been walking her home for two weeks now, and she couldn't stand another _day_ of it. Things had to come out today, whether he wanted them to or not.

She'd been devastated when Danny had flown off after their first tutoring lessons together two weeks ago. Even so, she'd managed to get her hopes up again when Tucker called later that day to cheer her up. But she should've _known_ things weren't going to fix themselves easily, not when Tucker was calling to apologize for Danny's behavior _in his place_.

So she'd been disappointed again. Danny _had_ walked her home the next day, but he'd remained freakishly stiff and ridiculously formal, as though he were a professional _bodyguard_, or something. The only interaction he'd initiated had been to give her a ghost gadget (it looked like a watch) that his parents had built. He'd briefly explained how it worked, and had asked her to wear it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for her own protection. She did wear it, and it _was_ a comfort to have, mostly because of the fear that Vlad might try to make off with Nathaniel, and only Danny would have a prayer of stopping him.

But though he seemed dedicated to protecting her, _beyond_ that Danny appeared to have renounced their friendship completely. After that first day he never spoke to her unless asked a direct question, and often not even then. When he _did_ reply, it was in monosyllables. He wouldn't even _look_ at her if he could avoid it, and he was so tense he didn't even let his arms swing naturally when he walked.

It was easy to see why she wasn't sleeping well. Fears about him were preying on her mind, and growing worse with every passing day. In fact, she _thought_ she was starting to have nightmares again, though she couldn't remember anything specific so far.

Worse than this, though, was hat she'd been forced to question her decision to leave Amity Park a year ago. Had it been for nothing? Or worse, could she have hurt Danny; hurt _everyone_ even more by leaving? She'd _tried_ to tell herself that she'd at least saved them all the pain of seeing her in shock, and of seeing her pregnant. That had to count for _something_, right?

Sam's face scrunched up, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get her emotions under control. Her sweet, kind, ridiculous, tender, sometimes sarcastic, occasionally fierce, and always clueless Danny was acting like he was _damaged_. This was worse than any nightmare.

Sam had been trying so _hard_ to keep her hopes up that things would be alright. He'd have to go through a period of shock, just like Tucker and Jazz, of course. She was still working through things _herself_. It was one thing to deal with everything on your own, and another to see your _friends_ having to deal with it too. But it was too late to protect Danny now, so she'd prayed that he would pull through, that all the fears she'd had about him were unfounded, and that this hadn't…_changed_ him too much. So she'd waited, trying to remain calm, for a sign that Danny was loosening up, and that he would get back to his normal self, but as every day passed her worries were only being confirmed.

She _needed_ him whole. It broke something deep inside her to think that he might be tainted by the same darkness that had been the root cause of the terrible change in his future self, and now that she was back in his life she was terrified that _she_ might be the reason, the catalyst that would start some horrible change in _him_.

She spent her nights wondering and worrying. Where had Danny _gone_ for three days, after his fight with his older self? And speaking of which, what exactly had happened between the two of them? How long would the other Danny stay away? Part of her was terrified that the answer was forever.

But Danny hadn't said anything about "forever" in the letter he'd left them about his older self, when they'd still been waiting for him in Idaho. So that meant he _hadn't_ killed him…right? But what if she was wrong? The idea that he would kill someone, for _her_…

She hadn't voiced her fears. What would she _say_? "Jazz, I'm afraid your little brother might be a killer." And at the same time, would Jazz or Tucker really understand her fears; these deeply disquieting feelings she didn't quite understand herself?

Sam looked over at Danny furtively, longing for things to be right in her world, and in his. She ached for a simpler time, when they would be hanging out chasing ghosts, running by the Nasty Burger, playing video games. Sticking it to the man. She smiled sadly, thinking about how much she'd changed. A year ago, that had been her life.

She looked back down at her notes, the worry welling back up again. Danny _needed_ people. It was almost a…a sort of _weakness_, in that it was dangerous for him to lose those close to him. He needed his family and friends. They kept him from…from becoming like Vlad. Or worse, from becoming the monster his future self had transformed into. Although she'd been forced to see, _hadn't_ she, that even as a monster he was still there inside, in deep pain, a lost soul crying out…

Sam bent her head over her notes, bowed by a moment of deep sadness, tinged with the worry that had become nearly constant. _Danny…I don't want you to go to that horrible place…_

She looked over at him again, as Mr. Lancer turned to write a quote on the blackboard. She never had to worry about Danny looking up; he wouldn't, _hadn't_ the entire time they'd been in tutoring together. It had been a shock, acknowledging how frayed Danny looked, and how negatively he'd reacted to seeing her two weeks ago. Even now he was _still_ so tense, his face turned as far away from her as he could comfortably manage while still facing Mr. Lancer and taking notes. At times she could feel waves of distress pouring off him, and it hurt her deeply.

She _had_ to make this right. She had to let him know that she'd _healed_, she was back _home_, that Nathaniel, however he came to her, was a _gift_. And that…that she didn't _blame_ him for anything!

"That about wraps it up for today. The third act of Hamlet needs to be read by Monday, and _don't_ forget the essay. Until then, have a nice weekend Ms. Manson, and I'll see you tomorrow in class, Mr. Fenton."

Sam bolstered herself up as she packed. Mr. Lancer had been almost sweet these past few weeks. He could tell things weren't right between the two of them, and was trying to be as helpful as possible. He'd suggested they work together on homework assignments multiple times, and she had a feeling he was inching toward actually assigning them some sort of group project to work on. There was also the fact that he'd gone along with being manipulated in the first place (as she'd found out) by Tucker and Jazz, who'd pushed for them to have tutoring together. Sam guessed that meant Mr. Lancer trusted their judgment when it came to what was best for her and Danny. But there was only so much, as a teacher, he could do.

Sam had to handle things herself. She wished it could've all resolved over time in a more subtle way, but it was clear now that whatever was running through Danny's head was extreme enough that it _wouldn't_ resolve. She needed to be blatant with him. She _needed_ to finally tell him all the things she'd never had the courage to say.

She blushed a little. Well, maybe not "I love you" just yet, as such.

Sam headed out the classroom door to wait for Danny. He came out a moment later.

They immediately locked gazes; he hadn't expected her to be facing him, or to try to meet his eyes. An unseen energy rose instantly, like static electricity. Danny looked away quickly, shaking off the strange moment, and made to turn for the exit as they usually did, but Sam grasped his wrist briefly to stop him. He pulled away stiffly, but stopped moving.

They both found other things to look at while Mr. Lancer locked up. The teacher appeared to want to say something, but in the end he only gave them another brief goodbye, after a very uncomfortable pause, before heading home. Neither spoke until he'd gone out the double doors at the end of the hall.

Sam finally broke the silence. "Danny…are you…" A dozen questions swarmed her at once. _Where were you for three days? Why are you acting like this? Did you __**kill**__ your older self?_

"_Why_ are you acting like this? Are you…I'm _worried_ about you. You look dead on your feet, you do your best _not_ to talk to me, in fact, you're obviously completely uncomfortable even being _around_ me! And I _want_ you to tell me _why_." She paused, and softened her voice. "I want to be _here_ for you. Tell me what's going on, Danny."

"I…" He looked up, eyes hooded with dark, confused emotions. He looked down again, as if shy. "I'm fine. You _don't_ need to worry about me. It…it doesn't matter how I'm doing, anyway. How are _you_ doing?"

Sam narrowed her eyes. "Yes it _does _matter. And I asked you _first_." She paused, calming down a little, and breathed out slowly. Then she looked down at her feet, feeling shy herself, and guilty. It was time to get a few things out in the open.

"I'm…_I screwed up, _Danny. I ran away, and it made everything ten times worse, didn't it? I convinced myself it was the best thing, but I was actually just…hiding away, and _hurting_ everyone I loved to do it. I hurt _you_, and I'm so _sorry_ for that, Danny…"

If she'd looked up, she would've seen Danny's eyes get wider with growing dismay at every word, until he finally found his own voice. "_What_…! Don't apologize!" He sounded exasperated, and underneath that, deeply upset. Sam immediately looked up again, and saw that his face matched his voice, increasing the intensity in his words tenfold. "_Never_ apologize to me." He looked offended, and ashamed at the same time.

Sam's jaw tightened angrily. She was _not_ going to back down! Although her eyes seemed to have will of their own, and focused on his chest instead of his eyes. "Let me _say_ this, Danny. I…I ran away, thinking I'd spare you all, or something. But…I was running away from _life_! I was trying to save you pain, but I put myself in danger, and just hurt everyone more…and I _do_ need to apologize, because…I forgot. I _forgot_ that you're my _best friend_, and that you would worry and…I'm _sorry_. And _don't you dare tell me I don't need to say it_."

Sam swallowed, finally looking up, but what she saw nearly made her take a step back. _Danny's face…!_ His eyes were contorted in anguish, or maybe despair, and his face was so tight she could see his teeth, bared in some extreme mockery of a smile.

He stepped forward slightly, hand up, as if to make her stop talking, even though she already had. Finally he found his voice, which sounded half strangled.

"_No_. _No_, Sam, _please_, _none_ of this is your fault! I don't accept your apology, because there's nothing to forgive! You…_I_ failed _you_. I've ruined your life! If you'd never known me, _he_ never would've _attacked_ you…you'd be normal, you'd be graduating on _time_, you'd be…"

Sam felt her fists clench. "Stop! _Stop_ it! Since when have I _ever_ wanted to be _normal_? And high school isn't _that_ important! It's definitely not as important as my _best friend_, Danny," she softened her voice, trying to express her feelings, "and I wouldn't give you up for the _world_…" She reached forward instinctively, trying to cup his cheek.

He jerked back at her touch, cheeks flaming, jaw clenched, and she lowered her hand slowly, sadness and shock washing over her.

They stared at each other for a moment, him wide eyed and breathing through his mouth; her pleading with her eyes for him to understand how she felt.

She looked down, losing her nerve. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"_Don't_. _Apologize_ to me!" Sam looked up, transfixed by the waves of energy coming off him. But he was throwing all his outrage and shame at the floor in front of her feet. "_Please. It makes me…"_ He put his hands to his hair, pulling it a little, and closed his eyes, face deeply pained. "It's just, you're so _wrong_! You shouldn't _want_ to be around me, you shouldn't blame yourself for _anything_, you, you, you _can't__understand_…" He turned suddenly, a violent motion, and placed his hands on the wall, head bent down as if taking a breather in gym class, his face hidden. Sam stared, the tension radiating off him so tangible that she couldn't speak.

Danny _tried_ to get himself under control, but as he'd listened to her, and as he'd tried desperately to _make her stop apologizing to him…_an explosion had gone off in his mind.

Somehow Sam had _triggered_ something, and now all the things he'd been suppressing for weeks, all the questions he'd refused to _deal_ with were rising up, and the worst of them was right at the top, the question he hadn't even let himself _ask_…

_What if Clockwork was right?_ What if he and that monster from the future _were_ the same? What if he, in his future self's place, would've done _exactly_ the same things? Why _else_ would he be feeling so guilty, if he wasn't worried, deep down, that Clockwork was _actually_ telling the _truth_…

Danny breathed in and out through clenched teeth, and his hands, as they pressed into the wall, came dangerously close to damaging it. _He couldn't…he __**couldn't**__ be…_

But _why_ would Clockwork lie to him? It had been at the back of his mind all this time, _hadn't_ it, even as he told himself over and over again that the time lord _had_ to be lying. And all the while his nightmares had gotten worse and worse, until they'd finally surfaced while he was _awake_ too. And through all of this the ugly thought loomed that…

_Maybe Clockwork was right. _

Danny felt suddenly weak, and let his arms bend so that his forehead rested on the wall, his face crumpling into a mask of despair. He wanted to sink deep into the ground; to hide _far away_.

But Sam was depending on him, and he _couldn't_ let her get hurt again. And, that aside, she seemed to really…_care_ about him.

This thought slowly steadied itself in his mind, and he felt himself finding the control he needed. _Sam_. She cared for him, and she didn't do things half way, not her. If she told someone she loved them, she _meant_ it. He didn't think he deserved it, but there it was, and somehow the need to protect her feelings diffused the internal battle he'd been fighting subconsciously for weeks.

Danny opened his eyes again, staring at the wall that was too close to focus on. He breathed in and out twice, slowly. Maybe…it _was_ true. Maybe he and his future self were….he quailed, still unable to state it in his mind as Clockwork had, and the ghost's words came to him briefly as an echo: _(…the same person, temporarily separated into two bodies and minds…) _

He sighed, and forced his thoughts forward, through that horrible thought.

So Clockwork had told him something terrible- that he was linked to a _monster_. Well…maybe he _was_ linked to the bastard! Then again, maybe he _wasn't_! Maybe Clockwork _was_ lying! Who could really say?

But when it came down to it, _so what?_

That _didn't_ suddenly change who he was! He had his _own life_, and was responsible for his _own_ actions, _not_ anyone else's! And whatever that made him, it _definitely_ didn't put him on the same level as that cretin from the future!They had _different_ pasts, _different_ habits, and _different_ inclinations, right? Clockwork had even _said_ that much _himself_! And that meant that even if they _were_ linked, he was_ not_ _like_ him. He _Danny Fenton_, would _never_ do what that monster had done!

_He could __**never**__ hurt Sam. _

The thought hung in his mind for several moments, becoming solid, unchangeable. Then Danny slowly straightened up, taking his weight off the wall until his hands only rested there lightly. He stared at them for several moments, and as he did, he could feel the knot he'd had in his chest for weeks now finally begin to loosen.

He was _still the good guy._ Whatever else was true, he _had_ to believe that. And Sam, who was back in Amity now, still needed protecting. His other self could come back at any time; ghosts healed _fast_, and he would be ready…

Danny flinched involuntarily at a touch on his shoulder. _Sam_. She was still standing right _next_ to him. He swallowed, embarrassment welling up, and took his hands off the wall. He kept his eyes ahead and waited for her to speak, afraid to look her in the eyes.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, almost tentative, and unusually gentle. "Danny, I…won't apologize to you if you won't apologize to me." She paused. "Deal?"

_I won't apologize to you if you won't apologize to me._ He looked over slowly, face softening at her sweet look. He'd almost forgotten what had made him so upset in the first place.

She was so strong. A feeling of admiration swept over him as acknowledged that, in a way, she was _much_ stronger than he'd ever be. But he knew that she had her _own_ hidden demons. He'd been there last night when she'd screamed in her sleep, and wouldn't forget it anytime soon. He could only imagine what her nightmares were about...

But still, even with that burden she carried, she was moving on with her life, and was _insisting_ that everyone else did so too.

_I won't apologize to you if you won't apologize to me._ Yet a part of him still wanted to get down on his knees and _beg_ her not to hate him…

He looked down at the ground, trying to get control of the sudden shame he felt. He might've told himself he was the hero just now, but it didn't change the fact that he _hadn't_ been there for her a year ago. Danny breathed in and out several times, slowing his breathing again, and the uncomfortable tightness in his throat lessened.

Maybe he could do this, for Sam. He could try to be her friend again, and more importantly, he could continue to protect her.

He finally looked up, breathing in shakily, and gave her a lopsided smile.

"Okay. _Deal_." They stared at each other for a moment. Danny's gaze was intense, but Sam didn't look away, sensing that something important had changed in him. She finally smiled.

"Would you…walk me home? As a friend this time?" She twisted her hair between the fingers of her right hand, feeling shy again, and looked down at the floor.

Danny didn't answer for a moment, just taking her in. He still felt like he didn't deserve her company, and being around her was almost too painful to deal with. And he was embarrassed that he still found her beautiful, and was even _taking_ this moment to look at her a little longer than necessary. He glanced away.

"Sure, Sam. Of course."

"Great! I'm happy to hear it!" And she sounded like it too.

They walked in silence for a while, as the intensity from before continued to dissipate. Sam thought over Danny's recent actions, culminating in today's conversation, and felt her heart melt. He'd been feeling guilty, blaming himself for _everything_! She found it strangely sweet, but it was heartrending at the same time to realize how much anguish he'd been going through because of her. She promised herself she'd do _everything_ in her power to help him understand how important he was to her. She smiled, unable to stop herself. It was just so _touching_, to realize how much he'd been worrying about her.

_Oh Danny, I love you so much._

Sam began to think about how to start up the conversation again. What to talk about? Her mind wandered over to all the things they used to do together. She missed just having fun with him so _much_! Maybe all three of them could go to a movie; her, Danny, and Tucker. She hadn't been to one in nearly a year, after all. Her parents could baby-sit Nathaniel for a few hours, surely. They were doing it right now, after all.

Danny's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Tucker said you have other tutors besides Mr. Lancer?"

She looked up, pleasantly surprised. He was asking questions! "Um, yeah, I have two more. One covers math and science, another covers history and geography. They're pretty good so far…" She talked about them for a little bit, but caught herself, afraid she was jabbering. Danny couldn't be _that_ interested, surely.

As she came to a stop he asked another question, and she immediately felt that he'd been waiting to ask it. "And Tucker said they both still come to you at home, right?"

"Er, yeah. Mr. Lancer's pretty much my only scheduled time out of the house, heh." She smiled. "Mostly because of Nathaniel. He takes a lot of time, obviously."

Danny's thoughts darkened. "That's…that's interesting." He groaned inwardly. He shouldn't have said that.

Sam frowned at his utterly insincere tone. "You know, he's totally sweet. He's the most awesome kid. My mom says it's _amazing_ how quiet he is. And I thought _I_ had it hard! Did you know that I had colic for _months_ when I was a baby? Apparently I cried all the _time_…" She petered away, biting her thumb nail out of embarrassment. For some reason she couldn't shut up! And Danny was quiet as a mouse.

Sam kicked at an invisible pebble as they walked, and got to the point she really wanted to make. "I guess what I _really_ want to say is, I couldn't _imagine_ life without Nathaniel, and he's not even six months old yet." She grinned lopsidedly, and glanced over to Danny, whose face was still dark. She frowned, trying to think of something to say. "You're welcome to…I mean, both Jazz and Tucker have played with him some, did you know?" Now she was smiling to cover her discomfort. What was she _doing_? She _knew_ he didn't like what…what Nathaniel represented. And she didn't want to put him off, not after _just_ getting him to agree to finally talk to her again!

Danny shoved his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet, and tried to think of something to say. "I…that's _neat_, but I'm not…I'd probably drop him or something." He wished she'd stop talking about the baby.

Sam attempted to back track, feeling embarrassed, and a little disappointed. She needed to _drop_ this. It could wait.

"Never mind, it's _not_ a big deal. _Hey_, maybe you, me, and Tucker could catch a _movie_ this weekend! My parents can baby sit, and I haven't been to the theater in literally over nine months…_ouch_. I bet I missed a lot of good monster movies, huh?"

Danny thought back to last summer, when he and Tucker had gone to their last monster movie. It just hadn't been the same without Sam, and they'd stopped going because of it. Before Idaho, this would've been a dream come true; having Sam back in his life, hanging out like before.

But now, well…he _needed_ to guard her, so walking her home was extremely convenient. But could he _really_ spend hours with her, trying to act normal, trying to pretend he was having a good time? Yet he'd just _promised_ himself he'd try to be a friend to her again. "Maybe…but you should find out what's showing first." Hopefully nothing good.

Sam grinned. "Yeah, I'll _do_ that. But I can't _tell_ you how good it would feel to get out for some fun with you guys, maybe go to the Nasty Burger, do a little ghost hunting again…by the way, how's that going? Like I said, I've mostly been at home since I got back."

Danny frowned to himself. Actually, it had been incredibly quiet in Amity Park for months, ever since last Fall. He'd been terrorizing the ghosts long enough that they'd pretty much decided as a group to steer clear of the Amity ghost portal for a while. "It's been pretty quiet, actually. I…beat a few of them up pretty bad, looking for you. They're kind of taking a breather. I don't know when they'll start coming back. Maybe not for a while."

Sam frowned. _How_ bad? How much damage had he done? Some of those ghosts were such old enemies they were almost like friends.

"Surely you didn't think the Box Ghost secreted me away?"

"Nah, he checked out." He said it lightly, but it was the truth. He'd gone through every ghost he knew, and more than a few he didn't.

They walked in silence for a moment. Danny hoped she wouldn't ask any more questions about the ghosts. At the same time, Sam was trying not to worry that Danny had done what it _sounded_ like he'd done, and beaten up every ghost he could get his _hands_ on. She'd have to ask Tucker about it later.

"So, um…" Sam struggled to revive the conversation, then noticed what block they were on and lost some steam. "Wow, I'm nearly _home_." She flinched at how disappointed she sounded.

"Yeah." Danny felt depressed and relieved at the same time. Here she was finally back in his life, sort of, and he had so many things going on in his head that he couldn't come _close_ to really being happy in her presence.

He turned to face Sam as they came to a stop in front of her house. As he looked at her he saw so many things that frightened him. There was such a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, filled with a shy, deep tenderness. That look, for _him_.

Danny dropped his gaze, pained by the fondness he saw. Even so, he couldn't help feeling deeply protective of her, this girl who he still loved so much, and who _still_ seemed so fond of him for some insane reason. But even if he didn't deserve that look, he'd be _damned_ if he'd let Sam get hurt again.

"So." Sam's voice broke into his thoughts, soft and wistful. "I'll…call you later, maybe, after I've checked out the movies, okay?"

_Oh. Right._ He tried not to look uncomfortable. "Um, yeah. You do that." He rubbed the back of his head nervously, looking around him.

Sam withered a little; she could already tell it wasn't going to happen. But he hadn't flat refused, right? She smiled anyway. And who knew? Maybe today really _had_ turned things around, and he'd finally start opening up again. "_Great_. I'll talk to you later, Danny!" Sam waved a hand goodbye and turned up the driveway.

Danny watched her go, waiting until she was safely inside, then turned slowly and began walking home. He sighed softly.

No, he still had too much to deal with to feel comfortable around Sam. Maybe some things in his mind had resolved for the better, but it didn't change the fact that there were questions he still hadn't dealt with, questions that made his skin crawl. Deep down in his mind a thought emerged, so subtle that it was more of a feeling than anything else. If Danny had been able to put it into words, it might've been a question about the future:

If Clockwork _was_ right about the connection with his older self, then what exactly _did_ the future hold for him?

But Danny's mind refused to focus; he'd dealt with too much today already. So the thought submerged again nearly as soon as it had risen, and he returned to thinking about Sam.

* * *

It was late, and Danny once again sat in ghost form, nestled down on Sam's roof, ghost gadgets and homework both in his backpack off to the side, except for a math worksheet, which sat half finished on his lap. He'd stayed invisible up to now, but had relaxed as midnight arrived, as he'd done every night for the past few weeks.

His mind was unusually clear tonight, and for the first time in a long time he could concentrate fully on his homework without...other things eating at him.

After years of loathing math and making barely passable grades in it, Danny was finally doing what it took (and had finally _realized_ what it took) to be good at this subject. Not that he'd had time, up until now to get good at it _anyway_, as the ghosts had been a regular aggravation up until last semester.

_Drills_. It all came down to working problems so much that you could do them in your sleep, _and_ do them fast. That was the only way, at least for him, that he could guarantee getting a good grade on the tests.

But it still made him feel stupid. Even when he was finally taking the time to get better at it, he was so _slow_! He'd only made it halfway through this worksheet, and he'd started at nine thirty. Plus, he needed to work another set of problems, just for practice. He frowned down at the problem he was working, realized he'd made a mistake, and flipped his pencil around to…

The pencil sprang out of his hand, bouncing down the roof top, and landed somewhere below. He blew at his bangs in exasperation, put his stuff down, and floated over to the edge of the rooftop to peer down.

_Aw, crud._ There is was, half a dozen feet away, on Sam's windowsill. His eyes widened as a hand reached over, picking it up, and before he thought to react, Sam's head popped out, looking right up at him. _Double crud!_

They stared at each other for a moment, Danny mortified, and Sam very surprised. She smirked after a moment, and held the pencil up.

"Drop something?" She decided she wouldn't ask what he was doing on her roof. But she suddenly understood the strange noises she'd been hearing- and she'd been planning to tell her parents they had a family of squirrels on the rooftop tomorrow, too.

Danny reached out tentatively and took the pencil back, looking for all the world like a puppy dog caught doing something naughty. "Um…"

"What'cha working on?"

"Math."

"Need help?"

Danny gulped. "Um…no?"

"_Okay_, well…" Sam raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "You know where to find me if you _do_." He stared at her for a moment, wide eyed.

"Right. Um. L-later!" His head disappeared from view, and Sam had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. _Danny, you nut!_

Guess he hadn't realized she was still awake, huh? She smiled to herself, deciding she wouldn't mention this in the future. That would be far more amusing. After a moment she sat back again, and continued with the book she'd been reading.

Danny sat above, hunched over on the edge of the roof, holding the pencil in his fist. His face was beet read, which was quite the feat for him, especially in ghost form. _Oh, crud, crud, crud, crud, crud…_

She _knew_! He'd never been so embarrassed in his life. But…she hadn't commented. What did that _mean_? Should he go down and apologize to her? Explain why he was camped out on her roof? He started chewing on the pencil absentmindedly.

No. No, if _she_ wasn't going to comment, then _he_ wouldn't either. He would just pretend like the whole thing had _never_…happened….

He floated back over to his stuff, situating himself with extreme care, and for the rest of the night he was painfully aware of every tiny sound he made. (And he had to admit that a little help with the math homework might've been kind of nice.)

* * *

Danny sat in Vlad's library, various books open on the table in front of him. One of them was a dictionary. His arm was still in a sling, but aside from that he was back on his feet and, ah…

Ready for studying. _Urgh_. He hadn't sat down and tried to assimilate information like this since his freshman year in high school! And as he recalled, not much _real_ studying had occurred back then. This was probably the first time ever that there was absolutely _nothing_ more important for him to be doing. As Vlad might put it, this was the first step to achieving all of his goals.

Unfortunately this didn't seem to be coming easily to him at all (kind of like math, actually), but whereas he'd never had a really good reason (beyond staying out of trouble with his parents) for working his butt off on math while in school, he had _every_ reason in the world to excel at this.

That said, he still felt stupid, but at least Vlad had said there would be a learning curve, meaning there would be a point when all of these facts started coming together to make better sense…hypothetically.

Danny glanced at the ornate grandfather clock placed in front of the far wall. It was already past midnight, and he wanted to impress Vlad when he came down (or probably _up_; Danny had a suspicion he spent most of his nights in his lab) to check on him at nine in the morning.

It was going to be a long night, but in a way it felt really good. He was being truly _productive_ for the first time in years. And it helped that he had someone he cared about to be productive _for_.

* * *

_Author's Note: This chapter was so friggin difficult! I hope you like it! Rar! I'm still not happy with it. Plus it's the longest yet- it's twenty-two and a half pages in New Time Roman, with twelve point. That must be four or five times longer than my first chapter, maybe? Methinks this is going to stay the longest chapter. It took too long to get out, anyway. (I re-wrote the thing so many times! ) _

_ Please review! I'm sad, it's true, but I've discovered that I really love reviews! _


	20. Conversations

_Author's Note: _

_Thank you very, very much to these people for reviewing!_

_kjhjhvjv -here's more!_

_seghen- um. Definitely the next chapter will be up MUCH faster than this one..._

_TDG3RD- thank you very much. And...bwahahahaha._

_Permanent Chaos- awww, you like Nathaniel:D Wish granted._

_- thanks!_

_cardinal- analytical, as always. ;)_

_YumeTakato- arigato gozaimas! (um...I probably spelled that wrong...)_

_Chaos Dragon- ouch. Don't hurt me? I'm sorry, really I am...I'm such a perfectionist, and life is so busy..._

_kaydreamr'girl- lol, what can I say? I love your reviews. :D_

* * *

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter 20: Conversations**

"I'm worried about Danny." Maddie's voice filtered through from the kitchen, muffled by the unusually heavy doors in the Fenton household. Danny stood silent on the other side of the door, her words having stopped him from entering at the last moment.

_They're talking about me._

Danny wasn't even sure who "they" were yet. This sounded like a parental conversation, but maybe Jazz was there too? He stood nervously, already invisible and intangible, his tense hand still raised as if to pull open the door.

"He's coming out of his shell, Mom. He just…he's had a lot on his mind, is all…" So Jazz _was_ there. And it sounded like she was being grilled for information on him.

"But why did he need a shell in the _first_ place, Jazz?"

There was a nervous pause. A drop of cold sweat made its way between Danny's shoulder blades. "I…it's like I said…"

"Sweety, you haven't said _anything_. Telling us he's in shock, or working through surprise, or…" He could hear his mom sigh; clearly this wasn't a new topic. "I know how protective you are of him, and I think that's a _wonderful_ thing, but your father and I _need_ to know if we're doing everything we should, and if there's something you're not _telling_ us…"

"_Mom_." Jazz had found her center again, it seemed. "Please, things _will_ calm down, I _promise_. But you need to give it _time_. He's just, well…," she sighed, "in shock right now."

"Well, but about _what_?"

"Isn't it _obvious_ Maddie?" That was his dad, confident as ever. _The whole family, then._ "It's like I've been saying." His voice carried the tone it had when he was playfully elbowing someone in the ribs. "And I _think_ Jazz is old enough to hear it too, Maddie…" he paused for dramatic effect, and Danny felt himself leaning closer to hear what he would say…

"We're grandparents!" Danny stifled a shocked choke. _What? What?_ And why did his dad sound so, so..._enthusiastic_? Danny only half listened, as the assumption his father so easily made about..._everything_, sank in. "Jazzy-pants is just too _embarrassed_ to admit that Danny and Sam were getting _ahead_ of themselves…" His father dropped off, his lighthearted tone shifting to annoyance.

_He thinks it's my baby. He thinks Sam and I were…_

Maddie spoke up, sounding pensive. "Sweety, I _agreed_ with your father for a _while_, but now I'm not so sure…you said that Sam _is_ overjoyed to see Danny, right?" Danny focused avidly on Jazz's answer, morbidly curious as to what she would say…

"Yes! I can't tell you how _happy_ she is to be…_around_ him again." Something in Danny's chest fluttered excitedly at this. Sam had said the same thing only days ago, but his hope was still so brittle that her words might be _real_…

His father's energetic voice broke in again. "Well, of _course_ she's happy to see him again…"

His mother interrupted, sounding far from convinced. "But he spent the first week back home in his _room_. And he seemed so upset and _depressed_. You were with him on the trip, and when you found Sam again. And you still have _no_ idea what's going on?" A long uncomfortable pause stretched out.

Jazz finally answered, sounding nervous and exasperated. "He just…he didn't expect things to _happen_ like they did. He _really_ missed Sam- you _know_ how much he missed Sam! And it just caught him by surprise, finding her, um, like he did."

Danny could feel his face heating up. She was skirting the real question, but their mom wouldn't let that last long- not that Jazz could really tell them the _truth_, of course. And even if she _did_…

He felt his brain melting at the thought.

"…it is…the thing _is,_ sweetheart…" Danny tuned back in, the tense tone in his mom's voice catching his ear. "The baby _is_ Danny's, isn't it?"

Five seconds of silence ticked away. Then everyone talked at once.

"Of _course_ it's…".

"_What_? Mom! I…"

"What I mean is…" Maddie paused until everyone else had stopped talking. "What I _mean_ is, maybe that's why he's depressed?" She sounded so worried, and underneath that, so miserable. It made Danny feel suddenly _very_ guilty, as his mother did _not_ get upset easily. And he could just picture the dark look on her face.

For the first time he was seeing things from his parents' point of view, and the possibilities running through his mom's head could hardly be good. _Look at the facts. Sam runs away, Sam comes back with a baby, I stay in my room for a week…_

Sam had been his best friend for years, but maybe his parents didn't know what _other_ fiends she had? Maybe his mom was re-thinking all the assumptions they'd made about her character, reshaping her into a, a…little tart, like his mom would say- someone who might _easily_ get in trouble with some random boy and then run away in shame….

Or maybe her character wasn't the problem, which left…what? Maybe his mom was suspecting something closer to the truth- that Sam had gotten into _real_ trouble, walking home alone some dark night…

Danny realized his hands were in his hair, pulling softly in silent panic. It was _obvious_, now why he, _Danny_, was the best candidate for "dad" in their eyes. But…but…where did that leave _him_? He clenched his teeth, hands temporarily fisting in his hair. Yet even _now_ the dark possibilities were turning around in their _heads_…

"_No_." Jazz's voice broke the silence, her tone strongly refuting Maddie's suggestive question. "_No_. You're _wrong_, mother." Mother, not mom; Jazz was upset. "That is _not_ what's going on."

The tension broke. "I _knew_ it. It's _Danny's_." That was his dad, confidence fully restored, tone triumphant.

"Jazz?" That was his mom, still pushing for a solid answer.

He heard Jazz groan. "I can't _say_!" She was clearly fraying at the edges. "It's not for me to _say_, Mom! Just, _please_ let things work themselves _out_." She paused, probably cooling down. When she spoke again her tone was strangely hesitant, almost guilty. "I…I _will_ say that…Sam _really_ loves Danny, and he loves her too. A _whole lot_. He's just…he _needs_ time to adjust. He's only _seventeen, _Mom! There are a lot of things running through his head right now. But things _will_ work out." Danny stood stalk still at this statement, totally consumed by what she'd just implied.

_You're practically confirming for them that I'm the father, Jazz! _His thoughts slowed down, as this all pervading fact slowly settled in.

His mom finally spoke up again, the dark edge of worry gone from her voice. _Mom's convinced it's mine… _ "Oh, sweety…we're _sorry_ for running you through the ringer like this…"

"Speak for yourself." His dad interrupted in a low tone. Danny could imagine the brief glower his mom threw him. _Dad's __**been**__ convinced it's mine…_

"…we've just been worried."

"No, it's not a big deal…"

_Yes it __**is**__ a big deal!_

"I mean, of _course_ you're asking questions…" Jazz was embarrassed.

_How did I miss this? _How could he _not_ foresee the humiliating assumption his parents would make…

_It could have something to do with everything __**else**__ that's been on my mind… _

"I'm sorry your vacation wasn't more _fun_, though. Danny's so lucky to have such a sweet, understanding sister…" The conversation didn't matter anymore; wasn't _interesting_ anymore. Now he was consumed by what he'd already heard.

Danny floated away, literally, as Jazz said something hopeful about how the summer holiday would be much better for everyone, when things got more settled…

_They all want Sam's baby to be mine._

Danny glided up to his room, and passed through the closed door, feeling shell shocked. He slowly lowered himself to the floor, letting himself become tangible and visible again. Even _Jazz_, who knew the truth, wanted him to…

_She wants me to pretend to be Nathaniel's father._ He was, after all, the _perfect_ candidate. Even a DNA test might show up positive…

Somehow it was frightening to even voice the scenario in his _head_, though. That would mean he'd have to confess to an act he didn't commit, not to mention Sam…

But his parents _already_ thought they'd been messing around, right?

A weird, embarrassing idea occurred to him. Maybe…Sam would _prefer_…maybe it would actually be _easier_ for her, if he pretended….

But it hardly seemed decent to step in and claim they'd been doing…_things_, especially when they shouldn't have. To openly state they'd had a, a…

_a son_…

out of wedlock. But it would be so much more...wouldn't it be easier on _her_, than having to admit what really happened?

Danny hugged himself tightly; he felt deeply confused, and all those dark emotions he'd been battling for weeks were threatening to well up again. He'd been holding them at bay the last few days, since the…talk with Sam, when she'd straightened a few things out. When _he'd_ straightened a few things out for _himself_.

_I'm __**not**__ the enemy here. _

And he had just promised to be a friend to her again…

Danny's face twisted in nervous confusion. But even so, that didn't mean Sam would jump at the chance of smearing her reputation. But then, she _did_ already have a baby, and her parents had to be wondering were it had come from.

But even if she _did_ want to play along, not that he'd have the nerve to suggest it; but if somehow it came _about_…that would mean proclaiming that he and Sam were…a _couple_. And that they already had a _kid_.

His mind cringed at the idea, and his face, still pink from earlier, quickly turned scarlet. But even through the incredible embarrassment a tiny hope was growing.

Something about the whole idea was strangely attractive.

_No. No way._ That was _never_ going to happen. Besides, something about it was so _insidious_. It sounded almost like a Vlad-ism. His subconscious mind, geared toward all his wants, was trying to angle the situation to his advantage somehow…._you know you'd love it, "pretending" to be Sam's boyfriend._ _You know you'd want it to be more than that__…_

Danny's face hardened. No. He wasn't going to spend any more time even _thinking_ about this. He needed to let go of that dream; it just wasn't fair to Sam. Even if she still cared for him, there was no way she could want him like that, not after what she'd been put through by his…_by that bastard._

Danny let out a slow sigh, and unclenched his unconsciously fisted hands. He breathed in slowly through the nose, forcing his thoughts away from the dark anger.

Besides, it wasn't like Sam even _needed_ a boyfriend. Her family was rich and could take care of her.

Mostly. Speaking of which…

He glanced at the clock, and grabbed up his backpack. It was time for his nightly vigil on Sam's roof.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Jazz had left for school, and Danny's parents had yet to say anything about his supposed relationship with Sam. Maybe they wouldn't bring it up? Maybe they'd taken Jazz's words to heart and were waiting for "things to work out."

Danny let out a slow, silent sigh. _That's __**so**__ not going to last._ His dad had been _way_ too eager about the whole grandparent thing…

Danny lay atop Sam's roof, using his backpack as a makeshift pillow for his head. He was in the middle of his nightly guard duty, and was currently reading through what had to be the _worst_ short story ever. The literature book lay on his chest, propped up by his hands as he read.

Unfortunately, the horrible story, combined with mild sleep deprivation, was pushing him _dangerously_ close to sleep. And as always, his thoughts kept wandering back to the girl sleeping just below…

Danny put the book aside and shook his head, trying to clear it. He could just _imagine_ it; his falling through the ceiling, accidentally intangible, to land softly on Sam's bed…and they'd both be sleeping soundly side by side when her _mother_ came in the next morning and….

_Urgh_. The scenario brought up an even more terrifying question. Did _Sam's_ parents suspect the same thing as his own? If so, had they mentioned it to her, or kept quiet too? Maybe he should ask her about it? _Yeah, right._

A soft cry sounded from below, distracting Danny from his thoughts. He glanced briefly at his watch, a newly formed habit.

Yep. It was 2:30 a.m., time for Nathaniel's nightly feeding. The kid was strangely punctual, for such a tiny baby. Danny could hear Sam moving around, and after a few moments the crying stopped. It was still very strange, even after all this time- what, nearly two months?- to think of Sam _breastfeeding_.

Danny picked up the horrible short story again and started reading it in attempt to submerge his discomfort under boredom. He got through several pages before sleep started overcoming him again. His vision grew hazy, the sentences blurring together, and slowly the book drooped downward…

He snapped awake suddenly. Had there been a sound just then…? He sat up carefully, feeling unaccountably nervous. Any vestige of sleep was gone. He waited for a moment, listening…

_Spack. _

He focused on the noise, his eyes instantly widening in dismay. _A ladder!_ Someone was climbing up onto the _roof_!

_You know exactly who it is._

Danny stared, frozen in place. He _really_ wanted to hide, but…there was only one reason she'd be coming up here, and _he_ was it!

_She __**planned**__ this! How does she even have a freaking ladder?_

Sam's face appeared a moment later, skin pale and hair shining softly in the light of a gibbous moon. Her eyes glittered, a brief smile lighting them up.

It took a moment of watching her struggle to get on the roof before the shock of seeing her was overridden by the fear that she might fall. He flew to her side immediately, picking her up almost instinctively around the waist and knees. Bridal style. He could feel himself blushing as he placed her sitting next to his backpack. Thank _goodness_ the chimney's shadow covered them both just here!

Danny felt ridiculously flustered. Sure, he'd _known_ she'd known he was up here, after the pencil incident, but he'd thought there was a sort of unspoken agreement to _pretend_…

What to say, what _should he say_…

Thankfully, Sam spoke almost immediately, before Danny could say something guaranteed to be stupid.

"Hahhh…I haven't done this in _way_ too long." She sounded elated.

Danny digested this. _What,_ s_cared me witless? No, you've done that __**plenty**_.

She obviously didn't mean that. But they _had_ used to sit on rooftops together, sometimes, before…_everything_. Although Tucker had typically been there too…

He swallowed nervously. "Um…is there a reason you came up here, Sam?" He paused, then kicked himself mentally. "Not that I don't enjoy your company." _Arg! If I wasn't such a klutz, you wouldn't even know I was __**up**__ here!_

"Couldn't sleep." She sounded so happy and excited, but also at home just sitting here with him. "And I've been meaning to come up here for a while anyway." She sighed softly and slowly. It was a soothing, contented sound. Danny's fear lessened slightly.

Sam continued on. "So what're you working on right now, anyway?"

Danny ran a hand through his hair, and thought about how he'd been nearly asleep a moment ago. "Just reading, actually. The _worst_ short story ever." Sam stifled a snort, and Danny felt his heart lift a little.

"Um, would that be "The Heart of Darkness"? I finished it last night. It has a _deceptively_ good title."

Danny grinned slightly, and relaxed a little more. "Of course _you'd_ think so, being a Goth." Belatedly, he realized that her former style had softened substantially. Her hair was black again, temporarily dyed until it grew out naturally, but her clothes were more conservative, and usually only the infrequent necklace or bracelet would even suggest her previous devotion to the Goth style.

Her tone came softer. "Yeah well…not so much anymore, I guess."

"Um…" Danny suppressed a dark grimace; of _course_ her style had changed, she'd been hiding from them all. She'd even died her hair _blonde_…

"Why the change, right?" Her thoughtful tone caught him off guard. He'd been expecting pained silence, or a bitter comment about this, one of many changes she'd been forced to go through. But she had _never_ behaved as he kept expecting her to, ever since they'd gotten back to Amity. Especially when it came to him. Joy, instead of fear; tenderness instead of anger; thoughtfulness instead of pain and bitterness.

He was slowly growing convinced that just _maybe_ it wasn't all just an act…

Sam repositioned herself, lying back on the roof as Danny had done earlier, with her hands behind her head. She lay still for a moment, staring up at the stars, before answering her own question. "I…grew up, I guess. It's not that the style is just for teenagers, exactly…" She sighed. "For _me_, though, I guess I realized that I could still be myself, be whatever I _want_, without driving my parents up the wall in the process." Her voice suddenly held a laugh. "You _know_ how much they hate everything Goth."

"Yeah." He nearly smiled, thinking of all the times she'd complained about that.

"I still really _love_ it of course, but…I don't have to use it to define myself anymore. If I want to go that way any given day of the week, great. But I don't _need_ to." She paused. "Egh. I'm blathering. I only ever do that with _you_, you know." Her voice turned suddenly gentle.

He found himself blushing, again. In the back of his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about what his parents thought about them…

_Arg, don't think about that!_

Sam kept her gaze on the stars, and tried to think of something interesting to say. _He doesn't want to hear about your fashion sense._ Danny was so tense, and it was starting to get to her. It didn't help that being up here like this with him…it was pushing all sorts of buttons. She looked covertly up at him, sitting so still, holding himself so carefully. She brought her eyes up to his shadowed face, in profile to her.

So striking. So handsome. She found herself wondering what Nathaniel would look like as a teenager…

Danny glanced down, thoughtlessly drawn by the feeling of someone's gaze.

Their eyes met.

It felt electric. They almost immediately jerked their eyes elsewhere.

But the afterimage of Sam's eyes stayed in Danny' mind, as if burned there. They were liquid in the darkness, and so full of some strange emotion….

Her eyes were so…_intoxicating_, drawing him in, making him feel so, so…

Danny realized he could feel her body heat, from where she lay. Why did she have to be so freaking _attractive_?

Sam stared into nothing, and tried to control her heart rate. Just that _one look_…she was shivering slightly, and it wasn't from the cold. The mood had shifted so _suddenly_. She'd come up here to work away at Danny's emotional shell a little more, and instead they'd jumped to this…_wow_. This…

Did the guy even _realize_ how hot he was?

Not that this was necessarily _bad_, exactly. She had expected some tension, secretly _hoped_ for it, but somehow things had jumped forward a _lot_.

Sam raised her eyebrows and, struck by all the crazy curve balls life had thrown her, she couldn't help smiling. She felt it grow into a crazy grin, then suddenly she was laughing, while trying to keep her volume down…

Danny was sitting stiff as a board, too panicked to think straight, when her laughter started. He looked over, disbelieving, but when he caught sight of her face his tension just…_broke_. An involuntary smile lit his face in return, and their eyes met again; Sam already had tears in hers, she was laughing so hard, while trying, insanely, not to make any noise.

And something about that was utterly hilarious. They were up here, hiding in plain sight, laughing their heads off _very quietly_…

A long drawn out snort escaped from Sam, and they both went into spasms of laughter.

_Snooooorrrrrrttt_….

Sanity returned very, very slowly. Danny finally drew his knees up for his elbows to rest on, his shoulders still shaking from laughter as he rubbed his face aggressively. He rested his face in his hands. _Don't think about the __**snort**__…_

__….

After several more involuntary spasms of laugher, Danny finally looked down again. He was still slightly out of breath. "W-what's…what's so _funny_, anyway?" Somehow, while laughing maybe, he'd managed to remember that this was Sam, his longtime best friend. This was the girl who had seen him accidentally laugh _mustard_ up his _nose_.

Sam shook her head, a grin still pasted on her face. "Search me. The insanity of life?"

Danny grinned. "Yeah…but that _snort_…" He made a snorting sound, imitating her, and to Sam's mortification she copied him a moment later as she attempted to suppress more laughter. He doubled over, quaking with glee even as she sat up to smack him repeatedly on the arm in humiliation. He fended her off weakly, and she relented after a moment.

Sam grinned widely despite the embarrassment. "At least I made you laugh."

"Yeah. I want that to be the sound my _computer_ makes when it starts up…"

"Danny!"

"Snnnnnoooorrrrrrrrtttt…." They both started cackling again.

Sam got out a weak protest. "S-stop it, m-my ribs are aching…."

Danny got himself under control, and let out a long sigh. He put his arms behind him, palms flat on the roof, elbows locked, and stared up at the sky.

Sam moved to imitate Danny's posture, looking up at the stars as well. A comfortable silence fell between them. She shook her head slowly, happy that things had somehow gotten comfortable between them again, if only for just a few minutes. How long before the nervous tension descended again? She drew her knees up close to her chest, and clasped her hands in front of them. She took a long, deep breath of the crisp, almost too-cold air.

"Danny…when is the last time you laughed like that?" An ironic half smile touched her lips, even as a dark frown creased her brow. She wanted to laugh, and cry, and give him a hug. She hugged her knees instead.

But she couldn't stop the words from emerging, low and a little too desperate, a little too sad…

"I think I'd be _happy_ if I could just make you _laugh_ more…"

Danny looked down, taken aback by the intensity in her voice. Deep embarrassment threatened to well up…

He snorted in self defense. "Yeah, I could just _see_ it, me laughing all the time- it'd be kind of like catching the permanent hiccups. I'd be laughing while Mr. Lancer was trying to lecture, when I'm reading bad short stories, when I'm at _meals_…"

Sam snickered slightly, her grin returning.

He went on, feeling strangely goofy. "Dad would _love_ that- he'd probably think I was possessed by a ghost…then, who _knows_, maybe after all these years they'd actually figure out the _truth_…"

Sam raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "That you're half _ghost_?"

"Yeah."

"B-because you're laughing too much…?"

"Um…yeah. Ironic, right?" He grinned.

Sam just groaned, put her head on her knees, and tried to spare her already aching abdomen from anymore laughter. She breathed out a shaky sigh. "Well…that would be the ultimate anti-climax, after all the _other_ scares we've had…"

Danny snorted softly. "No _joking_." His grin faded slightly. She was right, though. Laughing like this, for a few minutes, had felt _unbelievably_ good. _When __**was**__ the last time…?_ He didn't care. He just wanted to forget a little longer, let the all the pain drift away, let his mind continue to float back to how he'd been at fifteen, before everything started going wrong…

Danny shyly glanced over at Sam, catching her profile as she gazed up at the sky. Her eyes were bright, but wistful.

_What's she thinking about?_

He looked away, afraid to stare at her too long, and joined her again in stargazing. His heart fluttered as his mind skipped ahead to that forbidden idea, the one that had occurred a few weeks ago after he'd overheard his parents talking about him and Sam. What would it be like, to go along with their assumption…to _pretend_ to be her…

His crippling shyness held the fantasy safely in check, though.

_Besides_…

A pang of guilt went through him, along with a sense of loss. _Hello, reality. Didn't stay gone long, did you… _

He knew it was wrong to think seriously of a romance with Sam, even a pretend one. It crossed too many lines, after everything she'd been put through. That was why he'd been so _terrified_ when he'd realized she was joining him on the roof.

It was such a potentially romantic setting, after all.

Danny's gaze fell as a movement caught his eye; Sam was rubbing her bare hands together. He realized belatedly that it was a chilly night, and even with the boots and coat she'd donned, she was bound to be getting cold.

"Maybe it's time to head back in? You look like you're getting cold." She looked over at him, and he couldn't miss the slight disappointment in her gaze. He wilted slightly, and tried to squelch the guilty feeling. He _knew_ she didn't realize it, but she could influence him so strongly, with the tiniest look…

"Yeah…you're right. And I'm…actually getting a little sleepy again, anyway. Will you, um…take me down?" She smiled at him hopefully. His heart fluttered again.

"Yeah, of course." He opened his arms to her, trying not to feel embarrassed, and leaned over to scoop her up again as he'd done earlier. She put her arms around his neck, and he started phasing through the roof.

They were…so close, like this. He couldn't help noticing how good her hair smelled, or the feel of her arms clasped comfortably around his neck. The urge to pull her closer swept through him suddenly; to press his face to that hair, to _never_ let her go again, to watch over her _always_…

_Stop. It._

He floated slowly down from the ceiling of her room, taking a little more time than necessary. Only to get his mind straightened out, of course, before Sam could see his face again. Not to smell her hair an instant longer…

He set her carefully down by the foot of the bed, and they separated, regaining their personal space. Danny felt cold for the first time that night.

Sam drew an invisible hair back behind her ear, trying to ignore the fact that they were in her bedroom in the middle of the night. Danny swallowed, and clamped down on the growing urge to flee once again, as every moment grew more uncomfortable.

Sam crossed her arms, and moved slowly over to the crib where Nathaniel lay sleeping, if only to have something besides Danny to focus on. "Um…you know, you really _are_ welcome to study with me any time, since you're here every night, anyway…" Her voice was nearly a whisper.

Danny followed her reluctantly, trying to think of how to politely lead the conversation to a close so he could escape back to the roof…and maybe conveniently misplace that ladder…

"Yeah, maybe…sometime." He looked hesitantly down into the crib, where Sam's gaze was transfixed.

He watched as she reached down, with infinite tenderness, to brush away a lock of hair from the baby's forehead. The gesture was simple, but filled with love. He could imagine his mom doing the same thing when he was little…

Danny felt his throat tighten, and his ears and cheeks turned red hot. He struggled to keep his breathing normal, a telltale sign of the near panic washing over him.

A single thought echoed through his mind. _I don't belong here._

The baby let out a quiet sigh, a teeny, tiny little noise, and his lips opened slightly. Danny glanced up to Sam's face; her eyes were so soft, her whole countenance radiating comfort, protectiveness…

She smiled up at him briefly, before looking back down again. _Welcoming_ him.

His tension melted away slightly, and he found himself looking down again, taking in the sleeping child, trying to see with Sam's eyes…

Several moments passed, and it slowly dawned on him that this was the first time he'd ever really…_looked _at the child. Just to see.

_He's so…tiny._ The kid looked distressingly fragile, with those teeny little hands and feet, his little chest moving up and down as he breathed, the air whistling softly through that tiny mouth…

The kid was actually…kinda adorable, wasn't he? Well, this was _Sam's_ kid, after all…

_Cute little tyke._

"I'd…let you hold him, but he's just fallen asleep." Danny looked up into Sam's face, and blinked a few times, feeling dazed. She was almost glowing, and that soft smile on her face from a moment ago was again directed at him.

He raised a hand in a clumsy, embarrassed gesture, as if warding off the suggestion. It came out looking strangely half-hearted. "I…no, that's okay. I'm sure I'd do something wrong…"

Her smile widened, and she laughed softly. "It's not rocket science. I'll show you how, sometime." She looked down again, her hand returning to Nathaniel's brow. "Feel his hair. It's so soft."

Danny found himself reaching down. His fingertips brushed along the black, wispy hairline. _Warm_. The baby radiated warmth. And his skin was so soft too, almost impossibly so. His _own_ skin seemed amazingly course in comparison. _And_ _he's just so __**tiny**__…_

Sam watched covertly as Danny caressed Nathaniel's head in a gentle, repetitive motion, and as he moved to run a thumb softly across his cheek. She'd known, she'd _known_ he would like Nathaniel, if he'd just let himself see her baby for what he really was. But this was so much more than she could've hoped for in one night, and she stood transfixed, just watching boy and child, almost like…

_Father and son._

Sam lowered her gaze back to Nathaniel. _You wish. _She found herself struggling to school her face so that it didn't reflect any distress. She had no _right_ to foist her dreams on Danny, however much she might wish…

_He's only seventeen. _

But…so was _she_. Sam thrust the thought away, and forced herself to calm back down. She let out a soft sigh and brought a smile to her lips, concentrating until it became real.

_I really wouldn't trade Nathaniel for the world. ____And Danny's happiness was just as sacred to her._ She waited silently, refusing to interrupt the tender moment, although she realized that she was starting to get sleepy again. That probably explained her crazy thoughts.

Danny's hand paused, and slowly dropped. He looked calmly up at her, and breathed a deep, slow breath. His face was mercifully serene, but it also held subtle signs of darker emotions, of all the pain and heartache that went along with that tiny child.

"I'm…sorry I never, um…I've been so distant about Nathaniel…"

She shook her head, tilting it to the side, and her smile grew. "No, I understand, Danny. Just…" She paused, as her sentence got cut off by a jaw cracking yawn. "Um. I think I'm getting sleepy again." She smiled, slightly embarrassed. "But I _knew_ you'd think he was adorable."

They were silent for a moment, then Danny stated the obvious.

"Well…I'd better let you get back to sleep, so…good night."

Sam found herself suddenly thinking of all the things she'd planned to say, jolted slightly more awake when she realized he was about to take off. And he'd probably hide that ladder too, if she knew him….

She said the first thing that came to her. "Um, you know if you need to use the restroom in the night, or you get thirsty or something, feel free to drop down here, anytime. Just…cautiously, obviously."

"According to my dad, Fentons have bladders of steel." They both grinned involuntarily.

"Well, if you ever need to relieve your bladder of _steel_…"

Danny glanced down shyly. "Right. Thanks. Er, maybe once in a while…" Truth be told, he'd already used one of the downstairs restrooms once or twice, not that he'd tell _her_ that. "So…good night?" He smiled down at her, and rubbed the back of his head self consciously.

Sam grinned again, and found herself stifling another yawn. She snorted self consciously, and waved him away. "Goodnight, Danny." She watched as he slowly ascended back up through the ceiling, presumably to settle back on the roof. Then she headed back to bed, feeling completely beat.

The next morning, the ladder had mysteriously disappeared.

* * *

_Danny floated in place, suspended inside a globe filled with the shimmer of a thousand stars. Light danced and shifted all around him with every flicker of his own flaming hair. Despite his ghostly appearance he was still a boy; slender, with a slight build, and baby cheeks. _

_But no one who looked would see an innocent child._

_Something about the human psyche didn't allow the association. An innocent didn't possess glowing red eyes and flaming hair, or vampiric incisors. Innocents didn't have the terrifying ability to overshadow you, and thus control your every move. They didn't have the destructive force of a run away locomotive literally at their fingertips._

_The ghost community saw things differently of course, but they didn't matter to Danny. Few things did, anymore._

_He stared around the glittering cavern for a few moments, thoughts drifting. A memory, unbidden yet impossible to repress, rose strongly in his mind. _

_Sam's smiling, carefree face, hinting of mischief. He could only imagine what it might've looked like if she could've seen this place…_

_For an instant, something twisted inside him, a piercing, chillingly familiar pain…_

_Deep anger rose up like a shield from an increasingly familiar wellspring, burning away all thought, all other emotion. He gathered energy into his right hand, and the reflecting light around him grew painfully bright as he let loose the ecto-blast meant for the destruction of this place, which too beautiful to be allowed… _

_A moment later there was complete darkness._

* * *

Vlad sat in his study, tea in one hand, pencil in the other. A rather thick manuscript lay in his lap; it held a proposed change to part of the business plan for DALV Mechanics, Incorporated. He'd started the side company a decade ago for his own personal use; namely, production of components for Plasmius' lab. And later, he'd used the company for the production of Valerie Gray's ghost hunting equipment, among other things…

Someone took a seat nearby, shifting around for a moment as they got comfortable. Vlad looked up. It was Daniel, who was supposed to be studying.

"Question?" Vlad put down his tea, and sat up a little. The ghost held a bag which dangled conspicuously from one hand. "What is that?"

Daniel's red eyes lit up. "My first attempt at a get rich quick scheme. You keep mentioning that you're not helping with that one, so…" He grinned, and tossed him the bag.

It was _heavy_. If Vlad wasn't super-normally strong, even in human form, he would've strained his arm. He raised his eyebrows. "It feels like a bag of rocks…" _Ah_. "Precious stones?"

"Maybe. You tell me." Daniel stood up, walking over to look down as Vlad opened the bag and reached in to pull out a sizable chunk of…

Something shiny, anyway. Vlad turned it over, surprised at how much of the stone glittered, since it appeared to be completely in the rough, untouched by a jeweler's tools. It was quite unique. "Where did you get this?"

"The Ghost Zone."

"That's rather…vague." Vlad frowned as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. "This doesn't belong to someone already, does it?"

Daniel crossed his arms, pursing his lips in thought. "The place strikes me as one of those odd niches nobody actually _knows_ about, so no, I don't think so. And if anyone ever _did_ live there, it's been abandoned for a long time." He paused, voice brightening. "So, what do you think? Could these be diamonds? Or something?"

"Maybe. Or they could be completely worthless." _Or dangerous, considering where they're from_. "I'll send this off, if you like, and have a jeweler look at it for you. It could, hypothetically, solve your money problem, I suppose."

"Great. Thanks." Daniel put his hands behind his head, stretched, and started for the door. "Back to studying, then…"

"Just a moment." Vlad frowned sardonically. "When, exactly, did you venture out to _retrieve_ these stones? And how?"

Daniel turned his head, not bothering to face him completely. Vlad could see the grin. "Oh…I've been going out for the last few weeks, on and off. I was splitting my form; one stayed here studying, albeit badly, while the other was hunting around."

Vlad's frown deepened into a scowl. _I've been a fool._ He'd grown accustomed to calling this ghost Daniel, even in his mind, and somehow their identities had begun to merge. He'd even forgotten that _this_ Daniel had the ability to create an opening to and from the Ghost Zone at will. It was how he'd escaped from the Daniel of this time just a few months ago.

It seemed so much longer, somehow. "Right…hunting around…so you just hoped to come across a treasure trove, or were you relocating one?"

Daniel (_this is not my Daniel, curse it!_) turned around a bit more, but, rather curiously, wouldn't meet his eyes. "Ah…the latter. It was something I found quite a while back."

It couldn't have been that long ago, unless… "In the other timeline?"

"Yes, actually."

Vlad raised his eyebrows. "It must be nice to be able to use the same resource twice…"

"Not exactly. I…wasted it, last time." He hesitated a fraction of a second. "Literally." An uncomfortable silence settled for a moment.

"I see." Vlad leaned back, and sighed. "Temper, temper, Daniel."

"I've…changed. As I've said." He crossed his arms again, finally turning to face him fully. He looked pensive, as though he wanted to say more, but didn't know how.

The look made Vlad uncomfortable. Somehow, again, the guard he always held like a shield was dropping, as it only seemed to do around Daniel- either one of them.

He knew why. Daniel was the only other half ghost, the only other who could truly _understand _his situation…

"I…understand. Perhaps better than you think." Vlad shifted nervously. _What am I doing?_

Inside he was panicking even as the words kept slipping out. His voice was eerily calm, his face impassive. "I….as a teenager, I lost my parents, you know." Why was he _sharing_ this, this personal piece of background…he'd never told the younger Daniel…even Jack and Maddie didn't know…

Because they had never suffered the loss of the only family they had ever known.

Vlad looked up, to gauge Daniel's reaction. The younger ghost's arms had loosened, along with his jaw, and his eyes reflected the very discomfort Vlad himself was feeling. He suddenly felt impelled to give more of an explanation, to make him understand this was real, not some attempt at manipulation…_This isn't an attempt at manipulation, is it?_

Vlad looked down, steepling his fingers restlessly. "It was a car wreck, ironically. So…simple. I was away at college at the time." _Not quite true…_ He glanced up, afraid of what he'd see. Anger? Surprise? Sadness?

Deep discomfort. It was focused in Daniel's eyes, and pulled down at his mouth, forcing a painful frown. "I…already know, actually." He stood still for an instant longer, then nervously hastened over to a chair several feet away.

Vlad followed him with wide eyes, distantly aware that for once his own emotions were showing clearly on his face. This…_distressed_ him deeply. Such a private thing, and the boy already _knew_. "How?" It came out a little high, and soft.

Daniel looked down at his hands, palms held up as if for inspection. "You…_told_ me. When I was fourteen. Not long after everyone…had died." A dark look crossed his face; every feature reflected pain. Vlad was caught by surprise. His heart rose to his throat in an instant, nostrils flaring in an attempt to shut down the sympathetic pain attempting to cross his own features.

_Don't you dare cry on me, boy, don't do it…_

But thankfully the look vanished almost instantly. Daniel rubbed his face vigorously with both hands for a moment, and when he looked up his features were only mildly sad, and apologetic. "I'm sorry if I scared you. It…means a lot though, that you were willing to tell me…again." He looked down. "You're right. We _do_ have a lot in common."

"I…" Vlad swallowed, trying to marshal scattered thoughts. _Of course, I would've told him then… _"Yes. Well, I critiqued you about your temper, and I…well…"

Out of the blue, Daniel broke into laughter. He stopped quickly, still smiling ironically. "I know all about _that_. Or at least I can guess- I mean, twenty years is a long time to hold a grudge…"

Vlad's thoughts curdled, slightly. "Perhaps." Jack Fenton had much to answer for…the complete idiot. He breathed out slowly, and the old, tired anger mostly faded. He glanced down at the bag of maybe-precious-stones still in his lap. "Perhaps." Did he really still want to kill Jack? Somehow that obsession had fallen by the wayside over the years, especially after he'd discovered that Daniel, Jack's own son, had befallen the same fate as himself…

Vlad looked up again, and met the younger ghost's eyes. They shared a long, thoughtful look. If either had felt the need to vocalize, they might've said something like "We've been through pain, we've been through hell, but we're still here." Or perhaps, simply, "_You_, I can empathize with."

Vlad broke the moment first, voice soft. "Well…back to studying, as you said."

Daniel sat up straighter, smiling faintly. "Right. Back to stocks and bonds." He stood up, gave Vlad a mock salute accompanied by a lopsided grin, and left the room.

After he had gone, Vlad sat for several minutes, lost in thought. Something had changed between them.

He was no longer certain that he could use this ghostly Daniel as a tool, anymore. Truth be told, he wasn't sure if he ever _could_.

* * *

_Author's Note: Tune in next time for more exciting adventures (aka, more action), and possibly a little comedy...bwaha... Oh, and I love reviews! They help speed along my chapters! _


	21. Sadness, Dimitri, and a Bimbo

_Author's Note: _

_To E-Dantes, Permanent Chaos, Chaos Dragon, YumeTakato, cardinal, daydreamr'girl, and seghen _

_thank you very much for reviewing!_

**Catalyst: A Story about Change**

**Chapter 21: Sadness, Dimitri, and a Bimbo**

* * *

Danny stared at the silent video images moving before him, too mesmerized to look away. He'd known deep down, he'd _known_. But he'd been putting this off…

Sam sat on a carpeted floor, playing with her son. Her black hair picked up the sun as she made faces at the child, reflecting purple highlights that somehow complemented her violet eyes. The boy had her black hair, with the same unusual highlights, but his eyes were a bright blue.

Her face glowed. The child's face glowed.

Danny couldn't look away. He sighed softly, torn between anger and longing. _Vlad, you…bastard._ Yet he wasn't truly surprised, just disappointed. He knew the man too well.

Vlad had been watching her. Danny pursed his lips disconsolately, mulling over a troubling thought. Had Vlad ever truly _talked_ to Sam, as he'd told him, or had the man simply been spying on her back in_ Idaho_ as well…?

It was a shock when the answer, obvious though it was, came to him.

_He saw my conversation with Sam… _

He'd seen him _crying_, _Sam_ crying, his insanely angry younger self racing through the door to give him the worst beating of his life…

Deep embarrassment coursed through him, followed by a flash of anger. That had been _private_, damn it! To think that Vlad had seen their conversation, heard all the promises he'd made, seen him beg to her on _bended knee_...

His eyes glazed over, no longer taking in the video, as the humiliation deepened.

Slowly a depressing gloom settled over him, as he realized that Sam had never called Vlad, had never _asked_ the halfa to look for him after the fight with his younger self. Vlad had clearly decided to look for him based on the video feed alone. He'd probably predicted the outcome...

But it had been so _important_, to think that Sam had been worried enough to check up. Danny smiled to himself sadly as the comforting belief he'd held close to his heart these past months finally dissipated. He slowly focused back in on the video. _Sam_. She meant so much to him; Vlad had known _exactly_ what to say. He grit his teeth, anger rising again.

But the feeling was kept in check. After all, Vlad had been so helpful to him, so kind, so…

_Only to get on your good side, you fool. _

Danny frowned darkly. It felt like a betrayal, to think that Vlad wanted to steal his son, and probably intended to use him to do it. Why_ else_ would Vlad have done so much for him?

_But he never had a guarantee that I'd help, or that he could manipulate me successfully, and so far he's allowed me to stay here with him, helped me heal, taught me how to build a fortune…_

It was as though Vlad had two minds, and they were in conflict with one another. Danny could see the uncertainty, could practically _sense_ the confusion the halfa felt around him.

_And when he confided in me, about his parents…that was __**real**__. That was __**personal**_.

Danny focused in on the video again, allowing his thoughts about Vlad to fall to the wayside. He didn't know how to deal with him anyway.

After a few moments Sam placed Nathaniel back in his playpen (which was where the camera was focused) and walked out of view.

Danny watched the tiny child as he crawled forward awkwardly, mouth silently opening and closing in what were probably excited yells, until he had reached the edge of the pen, where he placed one hand on the wall in a gesture that yelled "Mom, over here! I wanna play more!" He had a huge smile plastered across his face.

Danny felt the sadness and anger melt away, as a warm feeling took its place. _Nathaniel_. _Gift of God._ It was...a surprise to him. And a comfort, to realize that _that_ was how she saw their child. A tiny smile graced his face as Nathaniel laughed excitedly.

He hadn't felt this..._warm_ in such a long time. He was _part_ of something again. He had family.

The feeling was bittersweet, but Danny could feel pride welling up in him. And something about Nathaniel was awe inspiring. The kid looked just _like_ him at that age; he could still remember the baby pictures that used to be so embarrassing. Somehow, miraculously, he'd managed to produce a tiny human being, a happy, healthy little child. A _son_.

That didn't mean he could ever discount how terribly he'd hurt Sam; his deep seated guilt was a daily reminder. But a not so tiny part of him was still jumping up and down yelling "Look at what we created together! Look! That's our _son_!"

Danny's smile grew sad as his thoughts came back to Vlad. The man was truly pathetic, in his search for a son of his own. Someone who, as a halfa, could fully understand and love him. Danny almost understood the obsession, better than he ever had before. But _why_ couldn't Vlad just...

He rolled his eyes in aggravation. The man was so attached to Danny's mother that he wouldn't go and find some _available_ woman to start his _own_ family with...though of course that could be tricky as a halfa, he knew. But then his mom was a _ghost hunter_; it hardly seemed like Vlad could choose anyone more _inappropriate_...

Danny crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on a bicep in irritation. On one hand he was _very_ angry at the man, and was tempted to go pummel him for being such a manipulative twit. But then he could empathize with Vlad (although he'd _never_ let him have Nathaniel). And shouldn't he, of all people, appreciate how important forgiveness could be?

And besides, here was an opportunity to see Sam and Nathaniel at home, mother and child; to see their joy and know that it was _genuine_. His gaze softened again, as Nathaniel, _my son,_ wobbled and fell back into a sitting position, only to maneuver himself forward again to pat the wall of the pen expectantly.

Danny's face split into a grin. Part of him was still crowing with pride, however misplaced, to think that _he_ was the father, no matter _what_…

Sam walked back into the picture, smiling widely as she picked an excited Nathaniel back up. She glanced behind her.

A heavy weight suddenly settled itself in Danny's gut.

His younger self was there, joining them with a hesitant smile on his face. He and Sam talked for a few silent moments, and then she held Nathaniel out to him expectantly. The boy stepped forward, with a look of concentration and awe on his face, to take the child carefully in his arms.

Danny's nostrils flared, and he unconsciously clenched his fists. He continued to watch as his younger self broke into a genuine grin when Nathaniel placed a hand on one of his cheeks, talking his eager baby talk.

Danny stared at the scene. Somehow things had gone from daydream to nightmare. That was _his_ son, and yet there his younger self was, filling in as, as…!

They were acting like the perfect little bloody family unit!

_Damn you, damn you, __**damn you…**_

Danny stood up suddenly, but felt unaccountably weak, as if all the strength in his limbs was being drawn into a pit of churning fear and rage in his stomach. He felt sick, as though the world had turned sideways.

_He_ still had it _all_. He_had it all!_ Family, friends, the girl of his dreams, and now _**his son!**_ His younger self hadn't gone through the loss, the pain, the _horror_; he had _no idea _what it meant to lose _everything_, and yet the boy still had the nerve to call him a monster, still had the _nerve_ to take the last thing that was his _alone_…

Danny's face contorted into a mask of anger. The arrogant, self centered, spoiled _brat_! And then there was Vlad, _also_ trying to steal Nathaniel…

He floated up, still staring down at the damned scene that ate into his mind like a powerful acid, tearing apart all his hopes and dreams, all the secret wishes he'd had, that somehow, _somehow_…

His face crumpled in anguish, and he found himself rushing forward, fist upraised…only to pull back at the last instant, face inches away from the computer screen. His younger self had fallen out of the scene for a moment, leaving Nathaniel hanging in his arms, with Sam close by…

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and he floated down to frantically turn off the video feed, to stop the unwanted images. Then he stared at his hand, still on the keyboard, as his emotions roiled.

That was his son. _His son_. He brought a hand to his face, covering his eyes, as the anguish ripped through him. _Why?_

Yes, he'd done horrible things, but…weren't they the _same?_ If he'd lived his younger self's life, would that be _him_ on the video, and his other self here, watching? How, then, was it fair that _his_ life was hell, while _he_ got_ heaven_?

Danny crouched in mid-air, tense, as the anger fueled adrenaline, something he'd been suppressing for so long, finally raced through him again. Rage had been his sole protector; it had never allowed him to feel anguish for very long. How had he _forgotten_ that?

Instinctively, he sought out the nearest enemy, teleporting himself, invisible and intangible, back to the higher floors, to the study Vlad used during the day, his blood boiling as he went.

_You miserable, manipulative bastard! You want my __**son**__? Allow me to demonstrate how your pretty mansion can be leveled using your__** body as the battering ram!**_

And Danny was suddenly there, right in front of Vlad, fists clenched, teeth bared in a manic smile, yet still invisible and undetected. He stared at the older man, sitting there oblivious, as he wrote in one of his damned notebooks. Not for long…

Something made him pause. Maybe it was that Vlad looked nearly _happy_, a rare thing for him. As Danny watched, Vlad chuckled slightly to himself, and carefully wrote something in the noteboo…

Danny's heart lurched.

It was the essay he'd given Vlad yesterday. He had spent a _lot_ of time on it. And now here was Vlad, looking it over, marking it up, and smiling to himself happily, almost _dotingly_…

It was like getting his head dunked in a bucket of ice water. The burning anger left him, leaving confusion and pain in its wake. He stared for another moment, panicked; then he floated up, and up, until he was suspended above the entire mansion.

He hovered for a moment, trying to think. Phantom images were playing in his head of the mansion as it was years ago, in smoke and flames…

Then he opened a pathway to the Ghost Zone, numbly aware that he couldn't stay here; he couldn't act on his destructive instincts or everything would _truly_ be lost this time, _everything_...

Liquid lines were gliding down his cheeks; some part of his fractured consciousness was crying. Maybe it was his dead human half, or perhaps, after all these years, he was finally shedding the tears that, as a ghost, he never had.

* * *

He'd nicked someone's cell phone, and now he floated, invisible, just outside his sister's dorm room window. He could see her, only feet away, as she sat at her desk studying. The desk faced the window, no doubt to make use of the natural light.

He'd spent some time in the Ghost Zone, calming back down. And then he'd decided to come here. He didn't want to analyze why. He just…wanted to talk to Jazz. And he knew he wasn't...quite _safe_ yet, but that he'd never harm her.

It hadn't taken long to locate a computer with internet access- practically every house had one these days. Then he'd just guessed at her school (he'd been right with his first guess: Yale), and acquired her number using the online student directory. After that, finding her dorm room had been easy. It had been _important_ to see her as they spoke. Though again, he wasn't willing to analyze why.

Now he was ready, her number already dialed into the cell, waiting to be sent. Danny closed his eyes for a moment, jaw clenched, and tried to calm down. But the anxiety he felt wasn't going to leave.

He finally opened his eyes again. _To hell with it._

He placed a hand against the glass and started the call, bringing the phone to his ear. He watched as Jazz, facing him through the glass, goggled at the unfamiliar number for a moment, then picked up.

"Hello?" Her voice and face had that cautious _is this a telemarketer_ look.

"Jazz." He waited tensely.

She broke into a grin. "Danny! I didn't recognize the number…"

He calmed down a little. This wasn't a problem; he'd just _pretend_ for a little while...

"Sorry about that. I'm…at a phone booth, actually." Jazz cupped her chin in one hand, elbow on the desk, and raised an eyebrow. He continued. "I...wanted to talk to you, but I'm away from home and I, heh…forgot my cell." It was strangely easy, falling back into the way he had used to speak as a teenager. _But surely my younger self has matured some in the past few years?_

Jazz laughed, and leaned back, grinning lopsidedly. "Danny, you…" Her grin faded, replaced by a worried look. "Wait, how far away_ are_ you? I mean, can't you just, you know, zip back and grab it?"

Danny thought fast. "Actually…when I say I left it behind, what I_ really_ meant was, er…I'm still looking for it." He let embarrassment color his voice.

The eyebrows shot up again, and she smiled in exasperation. "You _lost_ your cell phone?"

"I, er…I think it's at school somewhere, actually." Luckily today was a Saturday. "I'll get it on Monday."

He watched Jazz's face turn serious again. "I see. So…is this call just _because_, or…do you need to talk about something?"

She was to the point, just like he..._remembered_. "I..." He stopped, voice caught in his throat. _Jazz, I wish I could tell you how sorry I am, how much you mean to me..._

Her face showed her concern with a sad smile and a troubled brow. "You know I'm here for you." She paused. "Is it...about Sam?"

He put a hand to his head, massaging his throbbing temples. "I...no." It was true. This was about...something else. His voice came out tight, with a desperate edge to it. "Jazz, have you ever wondered...what it would be like..." _To lose everyone?_

He couldn't finish the sentence; his throat constricted too much. He couldn't play _hypothetical games_ with this; it was too painfully real. So he floated there, still unable to speak, feeling more stupid by the second, as Jazz sat there looking worried.

"Danny? Are you still there?" She clenched the phone, brow furrowed.

"Yes." He swallowed and looked up at the sky. "I'm still here." _I'm such a fool. What did I expect from this, what did I hope would happen...? _Words formed in his mind, as if from mid-air.

"What if I was a horrible person, Jazz?" His voice was low and gritty, covering the fear ripping through him as he processed his own words. _What am I doing, what am I doing...!_ He smiled bitterly, to cover the panic. What kind of response did he _really_ think she would _give_ him?

_I wanted to kill Vlad not two hours ago..._

"Danny..."

_No, let me __**clarify**_ His voice grew even more tense, as he forced the words out. "What if I...had killed people, done terrible things?" His hand clenched on the glass, and he still wasn't _looking_at her. "What if I was my..."

Why was he _doing_ this to himself? He _knew_ what she'd say...

Jazz's voice came, firm and somber. "What if you were Dan?" Danny snorted softly, surprised. _Dan._He'd expected something much worse. Evil bastard, perhaps, though maybe not from Jazz...

_**Look**__ at her, you damn coward._ He finally forced his eyes up, riveting his gaze on hers, watching in morbid curiosity.

"Yeah." He forced himself to continue. "Would you still...," _love me_, "be a sister to me?"

Jazz stared ahead for a few moments, frowning deeply. Danny was suddenly afraid that she'd realized who he _really_ was from what he'd asked...

Her voice came very soft, and very gentle. "But...you're _not_ a bad person, Danny, we already went through this..." _My younger self asked?_

He plunged ahead, hell bent on getting an answer, now that the question had been asked... "But what if I _was_? I..._need_ an answer. _Please_. Would you," his jaw clenched, voice turning weak, "be able to forgive me?"

She held the phone in both hands, as if grasping for strength, and her frown grew distraught. Her voice was tense and unhappy. "I...don't_ know_. Danny, it's just not the sort of question I can answer. I'd only know if I _experienced_ it..."

Danny grit his teeth. "But you _have_. You...I..." _Calm down, calm down. _ "D-dan tried to kill us all. What if that was _me instead_, not some...freakish combination of Vlad and my ghost half? Would you...how would you feel?"

Jazz grimaced, looking shaken and confused. "I...that's not...I don't _know."_She shook her head agitatedly. "Danny, I haven't _thought_ about it, and it's _not_ equivalent- I mean, there's two of you, and you're here, my _brother_, and he's some strange ghost that just _looks_ like you...I just...I can't pretend he _is_ you. What are you asking me?"

"But what if it _was_ me?" His throat was still clenched, making it hard to speak. "What if I went berserk, and _killed_ people, if I completely lost it..._me_,_your__ brother_." He put a trembling hand to his face. "Would you still...," his voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper, "_love me_?"

He watched, on tenterhooks, as she blinked a few times, banishing tears. "I...really don't know." Her voice was strained and thin, and for the first time Danny realized that this is what Jazz sounded like when she was battling tears. "I'm _sorry..._it's one of those things...just like how you never know if, when there's a kid you can save, but you'll have to die to _do_ it...would I be _able_ to? I _don't know_." She leaned forward miserably, lower lip wobbling.

_No Jazz, you're wrong. _ "You'd save them." He was absolutely certain of this. Somehow, the knowledge helped calm him a little.

Her mouth fell open slightly, in confusion. "What?"

"You'd save the kid. I _know_ you would." He drew a line on the glass with his index finger as he stared at her sadly. "You'd sacrifice your life, Jazz." _And you fought __**me**__, don't you remember?_ He watched fondly as she grew embarrassed.

Jazz's voice sounded a little awed. "You...sound so _sure_, Danny." Her voiced softened. "I've never heard you sound so grown up before." She looked down at her desk, and smiled crookedly. Somehow his words had calmed her back down. After a moment she finally released her double death grip on the phone, and reached forward with one hand to draw invisible patterns on the window pane.

The gesture twisted something in him, and he flattened his hand against the glass, throat working. The loneliness was suddenly so_ powerful_...

_Can you sense me here, Jazz?_

She looked so calm now, and a little sad. "Maybe you're right. Maybe...I _would_ save the kid." She paused again. "And maybe...I _do_ know how I'd feel." She looked up, and for an instant Danny thought she could see him. He grew suddenly very still.

"I'd still love you." His world stood still for an instant. Then he was searching her face, looking...

_Would you really, __**truly...**_

She sighed, and looked down again. "I'd be sad, and unhappy, but I'd still love you. And I don't know what your older double really is, but if he _was_ you, then...I'd love him too." She sighed again, and rolled her eyes. "I...know you don't want to hear that, Danny. And...I know it's crazy, after everything he's done, but if he _really__ was_ my _brother_, if he was _you_..." She smiled softly. "I guess that's a really good answer, actually...I mean, if I could forgive _him_..."

_I'm going to cry._

He smiled instead, and knowing it was foolish, he allowed his hand to pass through, just for an instant, and brush a tiny lock of hair away from her face...

She looked up, as if searching for a fly. Her eyes narrowed for an instant, and he was so _tempted_...

Then she put her chin on her hand, and the moment passed. "But that's all hypothetical. It's not like he _is_ you."

The wave he'd been riding on tried to dump him off. But it wasn't_ hypothetical_; they _were_ the same, which meant that someday, Jazz _could__ accept_ him...

He had to hold onto that thought. Everything he'd gone through today...somehow _this_ made it better. Maybe he'd been searching for this, when he came here. _I wish I could __hug__ you, Jazz. Someday I will..._

"Danny? Are you...all right?" He'd been quiet too long.

He swallowed, and said the first thing on his lips. "Thank you." He knew his voice was too intense, but he couldn't hold back on this. He needed her to know how much this meant. "_Thank you_."

She stared, wide eyed, then sighed inaudibly. "Danny...you're such a nut, sometimes." She smiled. "I'm glad that made you feel better, though."

He smiled softly, and couldn't resist being a little mischievous. "You have _no_ idea, believe me." He paused. "So...how's school going?"

She immediately perked up; his younger self obviously didn't ask this question often. And maybe she was relieved to be off the previous topic.

She answered eagerly. "Actually, there's this really_ interesting_ syndrome we've been going over in abnormal psychology, you won't believe how _weird_ it is..."

He listened to her talk about school for over an hour, drawing her out with the occasional question. That warmth he'd felt, when he'd been watching Nathaniel, slowly returned.

_This_ was therapy.

* * *

It was early afternoon, and he floated, unseen, above the bustle of the New York stock exchange. It would be closing in another hour.

Danny had quickly thought of Vlad after his conversation with Jazz, and realized that he needed some sort of excuse for where he'd been. He still wasn't sure visiting here, ostensibly for study purposes, would cover him, so now he was looking around for something for something to catch his eye...

It took nearly an hour, but _something_ finally did, most _definitely:_ New Age Utilities, Inc.

It was a tiny company, focused on creating everyday gadgets that incorporated new technologies in a cost effective way. One product they were working on was a sort of universal adapter, which used carbon nano-rods. From the description, the thing was impossibly good; it could connect practically anything, had its own adjustable power source, _and_ it fit in the palm of your hand. This was exactly the kind of gadget someone like Tucker would kill to have.

Although, maybe not. Danny needed to research it more, and find out if this company was as good as it sounded.

He located their workplace quickly enough; they were in New York City, after all. He'd kept his search to companies in the area.

He watched the company workers (all five of them; it was a _very_ small company) for the rest of the afternoon, and worries about Vlad fell by the wayside. Tucker really _would_ kill for one of these things...

* * *

Danny sat with Vlad at the breakfast table. He didn't usually eat with him, as his need for sustenance was minimal, but today he nursed a cup of Vlad's favorite tea, Earl Grey, and munched on a piece of toast.

He'd been curious about the taste of the stuff for months, and was pleased to know that it wasn't half bad. Not that his introduction to Earl Grey was paramount. Vlad was staring at him over his newspaper, brows drawn down in a perpetual frown, apparently debating with himself internally.

Vlad had realized Daniel wasn't home in the early afternoon yesterday, when he'd gone searching for him to go over his essay. He'd been pleased with the b...

_**Not**__ a boy._ And that was the problem. He wasn't a child, yet Vlad still felt put upon at the disappearance. Daniel hadn't come back until nearly midnight, and Vlad had sat up _waiting_. He hadn't said anything when Daniel finally drifted through, just a brief nod in greeting, but the ghost had given him an odd look, obviously surprised that he wasn't down in his lab, or asleep, as he usually was by then.

He shuffled the newspaper irritably, cursing inside. He'd hoped he could maintain some sort of _control_ over the ghost...

Or was he just protective? "Butter biscuits..." Vlad hid behind the newspaper, turning another page. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, however quietly...

"What was that?"

"Nothing." He tried to keep his voice neutral. "So...where were you last night?" _And all day yesterday, you inconsiderate...brat._

Danny grinned. "I thought you'd never ask!" He sat back, smirking, and waited until Vlad lowered the newspaper, expression grumpy and closed. "I'm going to invest."

Vlad's features didn't change. "Do tell."

"The company's called New Age Utilities, and it's located in New York. That's where I disappeared to yesterday. I was checking it out." He took a sip of tea. Vlad still looked grumpy, but Danny couldn't bring himself to apologize, not after what he'd seen yesterday. Even if he had decided to forgive the cheese head.

"I see...but you couldn't inform me of your actions before flying off?" Keeping the glower at bay was proving difficult. Vlad put down the newspaper and picked up his tea, sipping it. At least the cup would cover his frown.

Danny smiled sheepishly, feigning embarrassment, and put a hand to the back of his head. "I guess I wanted to surprise you again. But I rather forgot how much that annoyed you last time. I hope I didn't irritate you?" Danny suppressed a smirk; he had _clearly_ irritated him.

_But you __**really**__ irritated me first._ Besides, Vlad was such a control freak. He needed to realize that Danny wasn't pawn material. It was the first step, maybe, toward helping him realize what a monumentally _bad_ idea trying to steal Nathaniel would be...

They both sipped tea for a few moments, Danny's question going unanswered. They both knew it didn't need one, anyway, as the tension between them had reached a new height.

Vlad finally set his tea down, and started rifling through the newspaper. He stopped after a moment, and handed it across to Danny. "Is this the company?"

Danny looked at the page, and spotted a short article focusing in on new inventions. Apparently the company's unique design concept for the universal adapter qualified. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah, this is them."

"Tell me why you want to invest." Vlad's voice was completely neutral. Apparently he'd decided to suppress his aggravation, at least for the moment.

Danny launched into a description of their technology, elaborating where the article left off. He went through the production process, the members of the team, the materials they used, their suppliers, the market they could potentially reach...

He finally wound down, and realized that his enthusiasm had worked off a lot of the tension he'd been feeling, so much so that he could even concede a slight defeat, and give Vlad an apology of sorts. "Actually, I would've been back sooner, but I got carried away watching them work." He grinned again, genuinely embarrassed this time. "It's...really interesting stuff."

Vlad had been silent throughout, expression remaining closed off. But now his face finally relaxed a little. "Actually, I plan on investing too." He smiled slightly, and looked as though he were telling a secret. "They _are_ interesting, aren't they? Quite ingenious, really."

The remaining hostility immediately evaporated, and a wave a relief washed through them both. Somehow, the quiet struggle they'd been having had just resolved itself.

They spent some time discussing the little company together. They spent time discussing his essay. Then they spent time discussing Danny, and how he could move fully into the business world, as Vlad felt he had proved himself ready. They would both invest in New Age Utilities, together.

Somehow along the way, Vlad offered to introduce Danny as family- a cousin from oversees, one Dimitri Mihailov. The surname was Russian, and Vlad's mother's maiden name. Her parents had immigrated here when she was eight, which was nearly as much as Vlad knew about them.

In the following days Danny practised his human disguise, and his Russian accent. They decided to nix the accent pretty quickly; he'd just be uncannily good at English (instead of uncannily bad at Russian).

* * *

It felt ridiculously good, walking around in public without someone screaming at him. As a normal human. Passersby hardly gave him a glance.

Danny grinned. Although, he _was_ getting a few second looks from those of the female persuasion.

He had a right to grin, having settled on the way he would've looked if he were still human, which wasn't half bad, in his opinion. That made him a dead ringer for his younger self, of course, but he'd kept the goatee and longer hair, back in a ponytail not unlike Vlad's (though definitely harder to tame) which he thought differentiated him from his younger self pretty clearly. Of course, the expensive business suit didn't hurt either; his younger self had no reason to wear something like this, and didn't have the money for it anyway.

After two weeks, he and Vlad had successfully organized to meet with the five owners of New Age Utilities at a suite in uptown New York, provided by Mr. Masters himself. It had been easy to set up. They had been awed and overjoyed that such a giant in business had taken an interest in them.

The meeting was scheduled for about- Danny checked his watch- nearly an hour from now. In the meantime he'd decided to stretch his legs, with the promise to be back with time to spare...

A shrill scream from above made him look up in surprise. _What...?_

A woman was falling from near the top of a nearby skyscraper. Danny hesitated for an instant. _I can't just let her fall..._

The he looked around quickly and found, ironically, a phone booth. He disappeared into the thing and instantly emerged, invisible, as his ghostly self.

Invisibility was best; he did _not_ need publicity.

She was about halfway down when he caught her, and brought her to a careful halt. Her screaming stopped as she shifted from falling to magically hanging in mid-air. Then she panicked again.

"WAAAAAAAAGH!" She twisted in his grip with surprising strength, and he came dangerously close to dropping her. _What the hell? _ She wiggled around, and he become uncomfortably aware of how very...feminine she was.

_Maybe I should just show myself..._

She paused for an instant when he appeared, and then she wrapped herself around him, still screaming. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

_She's like a freaking monkey..._

He felt suddenly harassed. And...yep, down below a crowd was forming.

_Back up, then..._

"......"

_I'm going deaf... _

He finally found where she'd fallen from; it was the only suite in the entire building that had a full fledged balcony.

"......"

He set down on it hastily, and took his arms away, which left her clinging to him under her own strength. "You can let _go_ now..."

_**W...ouch!**_

He jumped, shaking his leg. A Chihuahua growled up at him possessively, holding on to his ankle for dear life. _I think the rat-dog's actually drawing blood..._

Its eyes glinted red. "_Grrrrrrgrrrrrrrr.._..."

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh...are you a _ghost_?" The lady sat on the floor staring up at him, oblivious to the psychotic fur-ball.

He stared down at her, eyebrow twitching. "Your _dog_..."

_No kicking the rat-dog..._

She finally leaned forward to grab it, flashing him in the process. _Oh __**geez.**_

"Oh,_Chewy_!_Bad_ dog! You hurt the really _cute_ ghost ma..." Demon dog started yapping, oblivious.

She was staring up at him, starry eyed. "...and he has a cape, just like _Superman_, and he has flaming _hair_, and pointy ears, and he's so _strong_..."

Danny's eyebrow twitched again. _And you're so crazy..._

He turned to go, but his conscience kicked in.

"Ah...," he raised his voice to be heard, "_you're not going to jump off again, are you?_"

She looked very confused for a moment, her own babbling cut short. Then she flounced up, dog still in tow. He averted his eyes to avoid getting flashed.

An image of Sam popped into his head. She smiled sarcastically. _Congratulations, you've passed bimbo 101! _

"You _are_ a ghost, right? My cousin talks about them all the time, she's so obsessed...but I never thought they were so _awesome_..."

Something made him look over his shoulder. He blinked. A whole group of businessmen were watching from a huge windowed room in the skyscraper across the way.

"...and she said he has shiny green eyes, but I think _red_ is really..."

_I'm getting a headache._

He turned back, and tried not to glower. "So, how _exactly_ did you fall, again?"

She paused, and looked sheepish. "Oh, I...was looking down at the traffic, and Chewie made a loud noise..." She blushed slightly. A picture formed in his head of her leaning _very_ far over, with those men right across the way...

Sam popped into his head again, uttering a single word.

_Bimbo._

"...and over I went! Hahahahaha! Good thing you were there to _save_ me..." She came forward, lowering her lashes. "You're _much_ more sexy than Paulina's ghost boy, I'm sure..."

_What!_

He blanched, stepped back, tripped over something, and fell on his rear.

_I can't believe it, it's Paulina's __**cousin.**_

He stared at her. The Hispanic features, the heavy makeup, how could he _miss_ it? She knelt down in front of him, smiling in a disturbingly seductive way, and the rat-dog escaped. It latched onto one hand while she grabbed the other...

Her voice was suddenly low. "I'm Roberta Sanchez, by the way."

"Ehehehe..." He laughed, suddenly nervous, and went intangible.

_This isn't happening..._

He was off the roof, invisible again, as her yells and the rat-dog's yapping mingled with the sounds of traffic.

He transformed back in a public restroom several blocks away. His face, in human form, remained beet red for several minutes. Then he silently came to a decision.

_What Vlad doesn't know won't hurt him..._

* * *

Vlad didn't say anything when Danny got back. He merely raised an eyebrow and pointed to the really nice plasma television that came with the suite...

A slightly wobbly picture showed him flying up with Miss Bimbo, in her teeny mini-skirt. "Amazing caped crusader saves damsel in distress..."

_Oh...crud..._

The picture switched over to a reporter interviewing a skinny teenage boy.

He held up a cell phone. "I got it all on my new video phone! _Sweet_!" He made the victory sign, grinning widely.

A picture of Tucker popped into Danny's head. He hugged something to him, looking slightly insane. _ I __**loooove**__ my PDA..._

The image on the TV changed. They had zoomed in to a close-up of him and the bimbo...with distortion tastefully added around her nether regions.

His eyes glazed over.

Vlad pursed his lips, and finally spoke in sardonic tones. "I _do_ believe you've made the first page. In _The Inquirer_, at the very _least_..."

Danny's eyebrow spasmed.

_Arrrrgh._

What were the freaking _chances_?

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Eeeeehh...my sense of humor...cough. Um. Hopefully that was at least a leeeetle bit funny. Maybe? A smidgen...? I'm turning red here folks..._


	22. Stirrings

_**Authors Note: I've got an announcement:** I really want to say thank you to E-Dantes for drawing a lovely, lovely fanart that goes with my story! Thank you so much, I love it! You guys can see it here:_

_**http/e-dantes. deviantart. com/ art/ Sad- Dan- 73459221 **_

_If the address is screwed up, then go to www. deviantart. com, and search for E-Dantes' stuff. The drawing is called "Sad Dan". Thank you E-Dantes! Everyone should go and leave her lots of comments! If anyone has trouble getting there who wants to visit, please let me know!_

_Arrg! One more thing! I was glancing through this before posting, and realized that fanfiction. net is putting errors into my document! When I have an italicized word followed by a non-italicized word, they get squished together. It's very annoying, and I apologize for that...even though it's not my fault. Grr. lol...ah well._

* * *

I think you guys probably need a reminder to understand the first scene in this chapter, so please take a quick glance at this snippet I took from a scene in the previous chapter, from Dan's point of view.

**Previous Chapter:**

_Sam walked back into the picture, smiling widely as she picked an excited Nathaniel back up. She glanced behind her._

_A heavy weight suddenly settled itself in Danny's gut._

_His younger self was there, joining them with a hesitant smile on his face. He and Sam talked for a few silent moments, and then she held Nathaniel out to him expectantly. The boy stepped forward, with a look of concentration and awe on his face, to take the child carefully in his arms._

_Danny's nostrils flared, and he unconsciously clenched his fists. He continued to watch as his younger self broke into a genuine grin when Nathaniel placed a hand on one of his cheeks, talking his eager baby talk._

_Danny stared at the scene. Somehow things had gone from daydream to nightmare. That was his son, and yet there his younger self was, filling in as, as…!_

_They were acting like the perfect little bloody family unit!_

_Damn you, damn you, __**damn you…**_

_Danny stood up suddenly, but felt unaccountably weak, as if all the strength in his limbs was being drawn into a pit of churning fear and rage in his stomach. He felt sick, as though the world had turned sideways._

_He still had it all. He had it all! Family, friends, the girl of his dreams, and now __**his son!**__ His younger self hadn't gone through the loss, the pain, the horror; he had no idea what it meant to lose everything, and yet the boy still had the nerve to call him a monster, still had the nerve to take the last thing that was his alone…_

* * *

**Catalyst, Chapter 22**

**Stirrings **

* * *

_"Why don't you hold him?" Sam grinned, eyes shining with that familiar hint of shy hope, and Danny gave in. He held out his arms and took the infant, who seemed to be overjoyed with everything at the moment._

_"Here, just make sure you support his head..." _

_"Um, yeah..." Sam guided his left hand so that it cradled Nathaniel before letting go completely._

_Danny could feel his anxiety at holding Nathaniel melting away into a warm, happy, gooey feeling, as the baby squealed with laughter. It reached up to pat at one of his cheeks as if saying hello. _

_He glanced up at Sam. "Heh...he sure is one happy kid."_

_Danny, Sam, and Tucker were all supposed to meet at Sam's house today before heading over to see "Alien Vampires Screaming Attack V!", but Tucker hadn't arrived yet._

_In fact, Danny himself__ was nearly fifteen minutes late, which begged the question as to where the heck Tucker was..._

_"BabababaBA!" Nathaniel announced how happy he was, loud and clear, and Danny's heart melted further. Maybe he would put off calling Tucker for a few minutes..._

_He smiled over at Sam. Despite everything Danny knew about this kid's origins, his anger and disdain were far away, nearly forgotten. The pint sized tyke was just such a...a completely innocent sweetheart._

_He grinned at Nathaniel, and Nathaniel grinned back. The baby's hand shifted slightly on Danny's cheek, as they both soaked up the affection._

You are so completely adorable, kid...

_"So, has he actually said anything besides __"bababa" yet, or..." Danny stopped suddenly, as thoughts and emotions, like a wave, enveloped him._

He'd lost everyone. Sam, his parents, Jazz and Tucker. They were all gone, destroyed, all **dead**, and he was completely alone...utterly alone. The nightmare that was his life enveloped him, pulling him into a familiar darkness...

_"...nny? Danny. Are you okay?" He realized he was sprawled on the floor, and that Sam was standing over him, eyes wide. "You had a...a dizzy spell, or something." She was holding Nathaniel again, who was silently watching him with a worried look on his little face._

_"I..." Danny sat up slowly, eyes wide. Then he looked away, in order to blink back a sudden wave of tears. "I..." _

_The powerful wave of...of something he'd just experienced was gone now, leaving only an incomprehensible wash of deep sorrow. Danny turned further away from Sam, as she attempted to get a look at his face. He was still, embarrassingly, battling the urge to cry._

_Danny frowned deeply, frightened that he'd apparently passed out over something he could only vaguely recall, and tried to understand what had just happened. Before the blackness had descended, however, just for a _moment_...he_ could_ remember being someone else, somewhere else...where everything had gone wrong. Everything he cared about had been, been..._

_Destroyed, or stolen away. _

_Terror rose in him at the memory, and he found himself burying it, deeper and deeper. It meant nothing; it _was_ nothing. Just a fluke. He _refused_ to let it be more._

_Danny got himself under control just before Tucker showed up, and the subject of his collapse, so far avoided, was dropped completely with the pleading look Danny sent Sam. The three teenagers quickly left for the movies, with Sam's mom babysitting for her. _

_But for the rest of the day, despite his best efforts, Danny couldn't quite shake a subtle depression._

* * *

"Arrg." Danny cursed softly under his breath as he started erasing his work. He'd made a mistake four steps back, and now the whole problem was screwed up! Sometimes he really _hated_ math.

It was around nine o'clock in the evening and, as usual, he was sitting up on Sam's roof, wrestling with homework.

Homework had sprouted biceps of steal and was kicking his butt. He was seriously tempted to ask Sam for help, since Pre-Calculus was somehow _easy_ for her...

He floated down surreptitiously to listen at her window, and, at the quiet scritch-scritching of a pencil, he peaked inside. Sam sat doing homework just a few feet away.

Danny stared for a moment, indecision contorting his face into strange and amusing shapes. He came forward slightly.

_Maybe I can get a look at what she's doing..._

"Danny, I know you're there." He flinched and held utterly still. Sam turned around slowly, a frown on her face, and he gave up, becoming visible.

_How does she __**do**__ that?_

Sam broke into a grin. "Actually, I was just guessing about you being there, but when I feel someone's eyes on me _that_ strongly..."

A_h maaaan!_

Danny raised his eyebrows in consternation, and spoke without thinking. "So if I'd just stayed quiet, you'd still be studying?" Sam's grin morphed into the Glare of Death, and Danny raised his hands placatingly. "Just kidding, just _kidding_!" He paused, embarrassed.

They stared at each other for a moment as he fought down a blush. Here he was, at night, in her bedroom again- a situation he'd planned on avoiding in the future.

_Arrg...say something! _But Sam just sat there smiling impishly.

_To hell with it..._

"Um...Sam...," Danny's hand went to the back of his head, and he looked away, "could you help me with a Pre-Cal problem for a few minutes?" He glanced back nervously.

Sam's grin widened, and softened at the same time. "I _think_ I already offered a while back, actually..." All the tension Danny felt drained away as he finally realized how _happy_ Sam looked.

A few minutes later they were sitting side by side, Sam's desk chair drawn up next to the sitting chair she had by the window. They worked with heads bowed together, quietly discussing the steps as they went along.

Danny allowed himself a secret smile. How had he forgotten, _again_? Sam was amazing, the greatest best friend in so many ways...whatever else there was between them. And plus, she made so much more sense than Mr. Lancer!

Before long they were working silently.

After a while Sam leaned back and sighed. She glanced over to Danny, and a feeling of satisfaction washed through her. _My nefarious plan is working..._

Well, it wasn't exactly nefarious, as such. But it was really nice to be here like this, finally comfortable. It had been a struggle, but after several months things between she and Danny were feeling _good_ again.

Sam frowned. Well, mostly. This Saturday had been weird. Danny had just _gone_ somewhere in his mind for a minute, while holding Nathaniel. She was still secretly grateful she'd reacted to his pseudo-swoon in time to grab Nathaniel from his drooping arms...

Danny glanced up, feeling Sam's gaze on him, and their eyes met. She hid her concern with a nonchalant smile, and he returned it absentmindedly before going back to work.

Sam looked away to hide a frown. He'd been so distant Saturday. _Though...he seems to be over it now. Maybe I can ask about it?_

She listened to him writing for a moment, while drawing circles on her own paper. "Um, Danny?"

He kept working, not wanting to stop in the middle of a problem. "Yep."

Sam cleared her throat. "Hey, you seemed pretty out of it Saturday. After that...moment you had. You never really...said what happened."

Danny stilled, but didn't look up. "Yeah..." He sighed, and leaned back, stretching. He looked across the room, mostly to avoid Sam's eyes, and frowned to himself. It...had been like falling into a dark abyss, deep inside his own mind. So deep he hadn't known it existed. He'd tried his best not to think about it.

Danny suppressed a shudder, and kept his voice soft, low. "It was...nothing."

Sam hesitated, and tried not to sound too worried. "You seemed...sad."

He grinned, breaking out of the strangely dark moment, and rubbed the back of his head. "I was...it was pretty..."

_Completely, utterly horrible._ But there was no reason to worry Sam. And besides, it had completely passed, like a bad dream. And like a bad dream, the last thing he wanted to do was focus on it. "But I'm over it now, whatever it was."

A thought occurred to him, and he smirked. This would _definitely_ take her mind off of it. "Speaking of weird, I had the _funkiest_ dream last night."

"Yeah?" Sam grinned slightly, reluctantly letting him change the subject. Some things couldn't be pushed, but hopefully he'd talk about it in his own time.

"_Yeah_. It had Paulina in it..."

_Oh barf._ Sam rolled her eyes. "Uhuh."

"Woah, woah, just hear me out! So, the dream starts out with me in ghost mode, flying around outside. Then I hear a call for help. So I fly down and there's Paulina, who's got her Chihuahua stuck up a..."

"Paulina has a _Chihuahua_ now?" They blinked at each other.

Danny ran a hand through his hair, frowning. "Er, no, only in the dream...I think." They exchanged dubious looks.

Then Sam cracked up, and covered her mouth to mute a laugh. "Danny, w-why..._why_ do you look so worried?"

Actually, he _was_. "Well...it's scary, just trust me." Sam stopped trying to cover her laughter.

Danny groaned inwardly; he could feel his cheeks heating up. "No seriously...it was..._rabid_. I _swear_ its eyes were glowing red, it was completely _insane_, and...Sam...stop laughing..." He couldn't help it, and let out a tiny snort himself, as Sam continued to laugh heartlessly.

_I can't believe I'm scared of a Chihuahua._

"Sammykins! What is so _funny_, sweetheart?" The voice, belonging to Sam's mom, was just outside the door. It sounded slightly amused.

There was instant silence as Sam and Danny exchanged mortified looks. "Er, I...was just remembering this crazy dream and I was laughing about it...it's nothing. Sorry!" Danny was already invisible, along with his schoolwork.

"Oh...alright, well..." Sam winced at the disappointed tone. She hadn't meant to sound so stand-offish. "Your father and I are turning in for the night, so goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight!" A few moments passed, and Danny became visible again. They stared at each other, and breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief.

Danny didn't miss the look of regret on Sam's face. He looked away, guilt welling up from his seemingly endless supply. He'd forgotten about her family, how things were going...or weren't going.

Sam stared down at her homework, thinking. Things had gotten better with her parents over the last few months. Nathaniel's bracelet helped a lot there, since it allowed her to be relatively open. But her secrecy about the father, her blatant unwillingness to give them any information on that point, had created a painful rift between them.

So far things still worked, though, and in some ways they were closer than ever before. Her parents were willing to let the questions go for now because simply having her back safe meant so much to them, but she could see how hard it was for them to do so. It broke her heart to realize the pain she'd put them through during her disappearance, and now with her return, she couldn't help worry at all the assumptions they had to be making, with Nathaniel here...

"So...how are things? With your parents?" Danny's voice was a whisper. Sam looked up to see him staring down at his hands morosely. She blinked a few times, and swallowed. She did _not_ need to burden Danny with this. But she couldn't pretend, either.

She spoke quietly too. "It's...they're still in the dark, of course, which is hard for them. I feel bad, since I don't want them to feel like I'm hiding things from them because I don't...love them or trust them, or something. You know?"

Danny smiled sadly, still looking at his hands. "I...they know you love them, Sam. And the trust thing...that's..." _My fault._

Sam let out a long sigh. "Danny...I've had a long time to think about things. And I've realized something." She waited, until Danny slowly looked up to meet her with dark, confused eyes. She took a deep breath, stealing herself for what she was about to say. "I'm...really, really _lucky_." His eyes widened and she hurried on, to explain.

"I'm blessed with a wonderful family and friends, I'm rich and more than a little spoiled, and..." she felt herself blush and glanced away, "I'm smart, and strong. I've got a _lot_ of things going for me." She looked up at him again, her words flowing stronger now, almost unstoppable. They were too deeply important to her.

"And_ now_, Danny...I...I have the _sweetest son __ever_, even if it's earlier than I would've planned, even if things didn't..." She shook her head, a smile on her lips, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "I know he's going to grow up to be _strong_, and _kind_, and..._loved_. I..." Sam looked down at her hands, blushing again, and let out a tiny huff of air; a silent laugh. "I mean, I could've been one of those starving kids in China, you know?"

She looked back up slowly, her face holding an intense, strained, completely involuntary smile. It was a symbol of the strange joy she felt at the personal epiphany she'd reached over the months spent back home:

Things could be _so much worse_. She could be _dead_ right now, in that alternate future! But instead she was here, with _him_, at _home_,_safe_...

And Danny _needed_ to understand that.

"_Danny_..." Sam leaned forward suddenly, tears in her eyes, and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, even as he stiffened up. She sniffled, pulling back. "Don't..." She shook her head, as words failed. She swallowed, still smiling, even as the tears glided down her cheeks. "_Don't_ feel sorry for me. What done is done, and...I wouldn't give Nathaniel up for the _world,_ Danny. So I guess...I really wouldn't change a thing."

Sam let out a shaky sigh and relaxed back into the sitting chair. She began drying dry her face with a sleeve, as her tears finally slowed. She kept her eyes down, embarrassed, and a deep blush bloomed on her cheeks. She was relieved this had been said, but she'd gotten so emotional, so _female_ while saying it...

Danny sat unmoving, face slightly shocked, as he tried to absorb what Sam had just told him. His eyes went to her profile, as if for guidance.

She was still smiling, though her eyes were focused on her lap and her face was puffy with tears. She looked so _intense_, like pure emotion was forcing its way up into an expression on her face...and that expression was a smile. It wasn't something anyone could fake.

That got to him.

There had been a secret assumption Danny had made months ago about Sam, and about himself. It was something he couldn't even state with words, but that had nonetheless been influencing all of his decisions.

_If_ he'd never had ghost powers, _if_ his future self had never existed, _if_ he'd been there to stop him, _if_ none of this had ever happened...

And ultimately_, if_ he and Sam had never met to begin with, Danny had assumed, wouldn't Sam be better off right now?

He'd never let it surface completely, the battle taking place deep down instead, because the thought of a world without Sam nearby was unthinkable. But somewhere in his mind he had been _convinced_ of that one fact: she really _would_ be better off without him in her life.

And if that were true, and he truly cared for her, shouldn't he be able to step away? Wasn't that what love was all _about_? Putting the person you cared for first, before yourself? This train of thought had been tearing him apart for months, ever since he'd realized who the father was, in that apartment in Idaho.

Yet here she was telling him not to worry, and to stop feeling sorry for her! That she was happy, and _lucky_, and...that she didn't want to change a _thing_.

And _that_ meant that she didn't want him to go away. If her _words_ weren't enough, her _face_ left no doubt. Sam _didn't want_ him to go away. It was amazing, and humbling, and a thousand other things he didn't know how to express.

"Sam...I..." She turned to face him, nervous, and he found his hand going to her hair, stroking it. And then they were hugging each other, her face buried under his chin. Danny struggled to breath normally, as his emotions overwhelmed him. When he spoke his voice was a soft, slightly hoarse whisper. _"It's hard. I still feel so guilty...it's so hard not to feel so __**sorry**__..."_

He squeezed her softly, and sighed, calming down a little. "But I'll_ try_. I _promise_."

Sam sniffled, another tear leaking out, and hugged him tighter.

_I missed you, Danny._

After several moments they both pulled away slowly. The emotional tidal wave had subsided, and with it a tension had broken. They grinned at each other after a moment, as they both leaned back into their chairs again.

After a few moments Danny rubbed the back of his head and blew out a long breath of air. "Wow..." He blinked. "Were we really doing Pre-Calculus a few minutes ago?"

Sam let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah." She grinned. "Thanks for the reminder."

Danny let out a groan, but couldn't keep the tiny smile from his lips. "Me and my big mouth."

* * *

"Thirteen days, guys, and school will be _permanently_ out." That was Tucker. The three of them were enjoying quality time in Sam's bedroom, which had turned into their preferred meeting place over the semester, mostly for Sam's sake, since she had Nathaniel. Tucker was sitting backwards at Sam's desk chair, chin propped comfortably on the back.

"Yeah. Only two weeks before finals..." Danny grinned. "And for once, I'm feeling_ prepared_."

Tucker smirked. "That's because you scared all the ghosts out of Amity permanently, and actually have free time."

Danny, who was sitting on the floor with his back propped against the edge of Sam's bed, frowned slightly. He still felt guilty about that. "Not _completely_." His grin returned. "Remember when I took a bathroom break in English yesterday, Tuck?" Today was Saturday.

"Yeah?"

"Box Ghost." He smirked as Sam and Tucker both gawked at him in astonishment.

Tucker spoke up first. "Wait, the _Box Ghost_ is brave enough to show his face, but ghosts like Skulker or Technus _aren't_?" Tucker frowned, "I've lost respect for the ghost community."

Sam stifled a laugh. "But for all we know he got sent here by the others to scout things out, in which case we should be hearing from them before long." She gave Danny a sardonic look. "Unless you were particularly nasty to him..."

"Nah." He crossed his arms, and frowned slightly. "I probably should've let Valerie chase him off, though..." He had nearly run into her as she burst into the room, just after he'd bagged the Box Ghost. He had phased out to make a quick get away, but the shocked look on her face had stayed with him.

"Now there's someone who has changed a _lot_ since freshman year..." That was Sam, looking thoughtful.

It was true. Valerie had gone from a preppy, spoiled Daddy's girl to a college focused, hard working young woman. She also hated and hunted ghosts with a vengeance that few people could quite grasp. Danny almost thought he understood, sometimes.

He'd had the weirdest urge to go back and apologize to her yesterday. Profusely.

Danny shook the confusing memory away. "She could make a living hunting ghosts, that's for sure."

"Notice her hair cut?" Tucker pursed his lips, looking at Danny sidelong.

Danny averted his eyes. "Yeah." He swallowed, and tried to cover his discomfort. "It's...weird. But not surprising, I guess. That's, um...how it was in the future, after all. Kinda makes sense."

"Yeah, of course..." Tucker shifted on the chair, and regretted bringing it up. Something about Valerie was unsettling, if only because they could remember first hand how she had been in the future, and could see the similarities in her now more clearly than ever before. And anything to do with that alternate future led to dangerous ground.

Each teen struggled to think of something to say as the uncomfortable moment threatened to permanently settle around them.

"Muhma..." Nathaniel made a little worried noise from where he sat on Sam's lap, looking up at her with wide eyes. "Muhmmmmama?" Sam smiled down at him. _Great timing, kiddo._

She ruffled his hair with one hand. "What's up, babes? Bored?"

"Hey, did he he just say _Mama_?" Danny grinned. _Thank you Nathaniel!_ He crawled over from where he sat. "Hey buddy..."

Tucker smiled quietly to himself, feeling relieved, and watched silently as Danny played with Nathaniel, making goofy faces at him. Danny's reaction to the kid had done a 180 degree turn over the past few months, from loathing to love. It was hard _not_ to like Nathaniel, though Tucker secretly thought it was because Danny had never gotten that puppy he'd wanted as a kid.

Tucker noted how happy Sam looked as she watched Danny and Nathaniel play. _Do you have any clue what she sees in you Danny? I really hope you do..._

"Bbbbbbbvvffbbbbbbbb..." Tucker chuckled as Danny blew a raspberry on Nathaniel's stomach, making him laugh his head off. The kid had already been transferred from Sam's arms to Danny's.

Sam caught Tucker's eye and grinned up at him, joy radiating from her face. He grinned back, warmth pouring through him. This moment, whatever the future held, felt happy, and untouchable.

Tucker's eyes returned to Danny and Nathaniel, and he got up to play with Nathaniel as well.

Later, when Danny and Tucker were coming down the stairs to head home, they ran into Sam's mom. She smiled pleasantly at them, but as Danny glanced briefly back on his way out, he caught the tail end of a first class death glare.

It had clearly been directed at him.

* * *

The next afternoon, Sunday, found Danny at home making his way downstairs for something to drink. He was currently taking a break from studying for exams.

Over the course of the semester he had managed to pull his grades back up from abysmal to stellar. His overall average, assuming finals went well, would now be, well...average, which was at least better than repeating a year of school.

But now that repeating was no longer a real fear, other more important things were on his mind, like college. He needed to excel in it, not just squeak by or even do "okay". And he could; he'd proven it to himself this semester.

He'd discovered ambition. He wanted to support himself, have his own house, be a success. He needed to be able to impress Sa...

Danny's train of thought halted.

That was, he wanted to impress _everybody_. Besides, he couldn't live with his parents forever, and being a halfa hardly guaranteed a solid income. Unless you were Vlad of course, who stole all his money. He knew Sam would _kill_ him if he tried tha...

Danny's cheeks turned pink.

That was...Sam_ and_ Tucker _and_ Jazz, of course, would kill him if he cheated like that. Besides, he honestly wanted to succeed, on his own two _human_ feet.

Who wanted to be like Vlad anyway?

Danny entered the kitchen, got a glass of water, and sat down at the table. He needed to sit and think, and stop skirting certain issues, like his future, and maybe, possibly...perhaps who he'd like to share it with...

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

_Gaah!_ Danny gasped, and his face turned bright red.

"Son, you and I need to have a talk." Danny glared up at his dad, one hand held to his chest to keep his heart from leaping out of it._I'm going to have a heart-attack at eighteen..._

Danny nodded after a moment, feeling slightly surly and very embarrassed as his heart slowed back down, and his dad took a seat across from him. It wasn't like he'd been thinking bad thoughts! Right? But he still felt like his hand had been caught in the cookie jar.

"Son, I'm going to cut right to the chase." Danny curled his toes nervously at his dad's serious tone. His previous thoughts evaporated. _This doesn't sound good..._

Despite this, Jack paused for a long time before continuing, an uncomfortable look on his face. Danny's heart sped up again. His dad _never_ struggled with words! "Now Danny, your mother and I aren't blind, and we've been watching you and Sam closely. We think it's _pretty clear_ what happened." His dad gave him a hard look.

Danny sat petrified as the words penetrated. _ Arg! My face is turning red again! Not guilty! Not guilty!_

Jack hardly paused. "...and we want you to know that, while we're not_ proud_ of how things have gone, we understand that we're partly responsible. We should've watched you two more _closely_! You've been infatuated with each other for years, and you were spending so much _time_ together…" Jack crossed his arms, frowning to himself. "Well..."

Danny sat silent, mortification sealing his lips. Not that he'd know what to say. Sure, he'd worried about this confrontation a _lot_, but he'd never figured out how to _deal_ with it.

_Come on Dad, you were supposed to wait! Jazz asked you to wait! And Mom's not here! I bet she doesn't even know about this!_

Jack finally took in Danny's petrified look, and his tone softened. "Now, we also want you to know that what's done is done, and we're not going to hold it against you." He crossed his arms, and frowned. "But you have to deal with the hand life gives you, son. You're a young man now, and real men, _especially_ Fentons, know what it means to take responsibility." He hesitated, embarrassment creeping over his features.

Danny flinched, and wished he could shrink until he just disappeared. A ridiculous thought popped up. _Maybe I can distract him by going ghost._

"So, Danny, I..." Jack frowned, and started over. His tone deepened, and he set his shoulders, fully assuming the role of the _Fenton Patriarch_, "I want you to go up to your room and think long and hard about _responsibility_. The fact is that Sam has a baby, son, and it's time for you to take a look at...at your _role_ in all of this."

Danny's mouth finally unsealed. "No, I, we…" _What am I even trying to say?_

Jack leaned forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Now Danny, I'm just going to stop you _right_ there." He leaned back again. "I know you're _embarrassed_, but I don't want you to lie to me. I've held Sam's baby, and I recognize a Fenton when I _see_ one."

Danny floundered. "Dad…I…" Then he stopped dead. "_When_?"

Jack suddenly looked nervous. "Well..." his voice sped up, "I kind of pretended there was a ghost in the Manson's house earlier this week." He frowned. "But there _might_ have been! You never know! Things have been suspiciously _quiet_ around here lately..." He glanced around, eyes narrowed, as if looking for a ghost. Danny stared, flabbergasted.

_My father is insane._ "You broke into their _house_? Presumably to look for _ghosts_?"

"Of course not! What do you think I am, some crazed wacko?" Danny frowned across at him skeptically. _If the shoe fits..._

Jack deflated slightly. "Well...I knocked on the door and told them there was a ghost and that they all had to evacuate...and then I ran around inside for a few minutes- _don't_ look at me like that! I had my equipment with me and did a quick scan while I was there!" He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. "It's clean, by the way." Then he crossed his arms as if in victory, and grinned. "Then I came back outside, and we talked for a little before I left." The grin widened. "And I got to hold the baby."

Danny groaned inwardly; he could just _see_ it. His dad- boisterous, loud, and grinning like a maniac- probably said something like, "And since I'm here, can I hold my grandso...ehem...Sam's baby?" Danny realized he should probably be thankful they didn't accidentally get sprayed down with Fenton anit-ghost goop or something, too.

Then the memory of Sam's mom giving him the glare of death yesterday returned. Danny crossed his arms. "When _was_ this, exactly?"

"When Sam was at tutoring with you." Jack silently added to himself: _And your mother was out shopping for the afternoon..._

Danny breathed a tiny sigh of relief. _ At least Sam wasn't there._

"You know son, the little tyke looks just _like_ you did at that age." His dad sounded proud, and happy.

Danny didn't look up, as his face slowly turned red again. What could he say to that? His father's words twisted something bitter in his gut. But at the same time something else came up, something fluttery, nervous, hopeful, and embarrassed as hell...

He answered, weakly. "Yeah." Danny felt like an observer watching the word come out of his mouth from a distance. It was all those emotions he was feeling; they'd forced it out, he couldn't be held responsible, or, or...he was _crazy,_that was it...

What would Sam _say_? What would she _think_ if she knew he'd practically said they were a _couple_, that Nathaniel was...

It wasn't that he hated the kid. He'd actually grown to care for him -_a lot _- over the semester. At the same time, he had also tried hard to see Nathaniel _only_ as Sam's son, for the sake of his sanity. But his dad was right, they really_ did_ look alike...

Maybe Sam didn't have to find out, maybe his dad wouldn't say anything... And a tiny voice, the one that had probably spoken out just now, thought: maybe it would all work out, Sam wouldn't actually mind, and they'd live happily ever after just like he really wanted...

Jack cleared his throat. "Well son..." Danny risked a glance up. His dad looked surprisingly shifty eyed, as though he was worried someone might walk in. Danny's eyes widened in comprehension.

_He's worried Mom might get back from the store too soon...I bet that's where she is. Maybe he won't tell anyone after all._

Jack frowned across at him, noticing his look, and dropped back into lecture mode. "Just do what I said. Think long and hard about you and Sam, and that_ baby_. And...take a little time, Danny. You don't have to figure it all out today."

His dad smiled. It held a hint of warning. "But," he added, "I'm _sure_ you'll reach the _right_ conclusion before long." He stood up, and Danny followed him out of the kitchen, escape finally in sight. Jack gave him a friendly shove as he walked past, pushing him in the direction of the stairs.

"Look on the bright side! I could've waited for your _mother_ to have this conversation."

Danny nearly stumbled on the stairs, his face once again beet red.

* * *

A few days had passed since The Talk. Danny sat in the school cafeteria, absent mindedly eating lunch. He had found it hard _not_ to think about himself and Sam, now that his dad had put his foot in things.

He obviously wanted Danny to marry her. To "take responsibility." Danny had been skirting the subject in his own mind for weeks already, as school neared its end, and adulthood loomed.

Now that his own parents expected it of him, thinking about it directly became a lot easier. It was..._allowed_._Possible_. Assuming Sam was even interested, of course.

Danny frowned darkly, and took another bite of his sandwich. It was all backwards! They were supposed to date, go steady, get engaged, _then_ get married. Maybe Sam would agree to go steady with him after they were married.

Danny sighed, and put down the sandwich. Months ago, Tucker had said she loved him, and Danny hadn't forgotten that. But it could be purely platonic, right?

Danny blushed slightly as he thought about Sam. _ It's so not platonic._

At least, he _really_ thought there was something there. It was the way she smiled, and sometimes she'd blush...and once in a while he'd catch her looking at him. He couldn't be reading into things _that_ much, could he? But didn't guys do that a lot, seeing stuff as flirtatious when it wasn't?

The familiar fear of rejection he'd had for years rose up. It would be horrible, if he got up the courage to ask her out and she "just wanted to be friends." He'd probably die on the spot. Then, after the worst let down of his entire life, he'd also lose one of his closest friends, because he'd _never_ be able to look at her in the face again. Especially after everything that had happened or the last year.

That made everything worse, of course, because even after all the positive signs Sam had been giving him, well...

It was one thing to be best friends, and another to have a physical relationship. And surely Sam had to be distressed by his physical likeness to his older self, even if she didn't blame him, and didn't acknowledge the similarities on the surface.

How could he ignore that? How could _she_? So she enjoyed being his friend, joking around with him, and having fun with him. But that was very different from dating him. Kissing him, getting close...

_But she's done it once or twice, without me initiating anything._ It was only a friend's kiss though, not a lover's.

Danny growled in frustration, and stood up. He made his brisk way out of the cafeteria, throwing his lunch in the trash on the way out, and headed toward his locker. He couldn't sit still any more.

He was angry. No, he was furious. It was a low level rage that occasionally surfaced, whenever he let himself think on what had happened between his older self and Sam.

He wanted to scream and strangle the bastard and cry at the same time. And yet he'd already found out that truly killing him...

He'd come dangerously close to succeeding, and had realized just how much that would have changed him as a person. Because of that, even when he wanted to rage out he would instinctively reign himself back in so as to keep well away from that particular event horizon.

That didn't change the fact that he would relish beating the hell out of his older self a few dozen more times. And sometimes, like right now, Danny couldn't keep from dredging through dark thoughts of Sam and his older self.

She'd been attacked the first Saturday morning of Christmas break well over a year ago now. Danny had figured it out months ago, morbidly curious. He'd even managed to remember that Sam had messaged both he and Tucker around noon that day, telling them she'd caught a nasty bug, and that they shouldn't even come over since she didn't want them to get sick.

Danny had turned that message around and around in his mind, after putting the pieces together, asking himself _why_ he hadn't been suspicious, how he'd missed the signs. She should've called, or talked to them over her webcam, of only briefly. Instead there were just a few lines of text, pleading sleepiness. It wasn't like her, yet he'd brushed it _off_...

Danny yelled out loud, and turned suddenly to hit a locker nearby. He stood for a moment, and then looked up to see the dent his fist had left. He found he didn't care. A familiar blue face had formed in his mind, with fangs, red eyes, flaming hair...

_Damn you. Damn you. Damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you, damn you, damn __you__** damn you damn you DAMN YOU...!**_

Suddenly the rage was gone, completely overridden by a powerful wave of remorse. It was surrealistic yet familiar, as though he'd dreamed the emotion, or was having deja vu...

Danny stood with his mouth open as the feeling of guilt left him slowly, to be replaced by fear and confusion. His anger was forgotten. It was as though he'd hit a wall in anger, and the wall, suddenly alive, had pushed _back_ with a reaction.

_With remorse, and guilt..._

Slowly, Danny began to make a beeline for his locker. He felt dazed. What had just happened was...it was...

His mind flinched, and his seeking thoughts were cut off. He swallowed, and something in his stomach twisted sickeningly. His thoughts refused to settle.

Slowly, he remembered back to several minutes ago, when he'd been thinking about his relationship with Sam. _That_ was right. He'd been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out, but...

The truth was, he told himself...the _truth_ was he just didn't have the guts to do it, not yet.

Danny frowned, feeling deeply distressed. That's..._all_ it was. It was that simple.

* * *

"This is great for a small scale business, but Vlad and I both think it's time you went to a larger supplier for certai..." Danny frowned and closed his eyes as his thoughts were pulled suddenly off course.

_Outrage, bitter anger._ Over..._Sam_. It was overpowering. His fists clenched of their own accord and his eyes, hidden under his lids, flashed briefly red.

He responded instantly, unwilling to compromise his human disguise and ruin all his hard work. So he focused hard, and partly by instinct, on another emotion so close to his heart that the anger (which was his own, yet undeniably alien) was overpowered.

Guilt; remorse. It was the perfect counterpoint to the rage. He let it wash over him for a few moments, frowning tightly as a small wave of sadness, never far behind his guilt, moved through him as well.

_Sam, I'm so sorry..._

"Mr. Mihailov? A-are you okay?" Robert Nass, one of the the founders of New Age Utilities Incorporated, sounded distinctly nervous.

Danny sighed softly, and let his emotions settle for a moment. _That...had to be my younger self; there's no other explanation._ Had he noticed anything, on the other end? Danny didn't have the luxury to think about it just now, though.

He opened his eyes and smiled. "Sorry, just a slight head-ache. It's nothing to worry about." He raised an eyebrow, and grinned very slightly. "And really, there's no need to stand on formality, as I said before. Call me Dimitri..."

* * *

_Author's Note: Not the best place to end, I know. I originally had this outlined as a much longer chapter, but I realized part way through that it would be ridiculously long. (So yes, that means I have part of the next chapter already written!) Anyway, I love getting comments, even short ones, so please review (and answer the question I asked at the top, pleaaaase!) Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!_

_DPC_


	23. Relationships

_Author's Note: Woohoo! Long chapter. Hope you like. Took longer than I thought to write it, and I was working on it almost every evening too. I finally got to do that last proof read/writing tonight. Please R&R:D_

* * *

**Catalyst, Chapter 23**

**Relationships**

* * *

Summer had begun, and Danny, thanks to Tucker, had landed himself a part time job.

He was working for Vlad. Pulling staples.

Tucker hadn't put it like that of course, and Danny _was_ grateful to him, when it came down to it, even if Tucker's job, two floors up from Danny's, was five thousand times more interesting.

He was a video game tester.

Danny ground his teeth together ever so slightly, and tried to ignore the portrait of Vlad hanging on the wall as he went to sit in his tiny cubicle. At least he was being paid twelve dollars an hour for this, which was two dollars more than Tucker.

To Tucker's credit, he hadn't known the job meant working for Vlad, however indirectly. Tucker worked in a huge building, with a dozen different companies stuffed inside it, and Konnektor Incorporated, a company apparently in the process of moving their paper records over to computer, had put up an ad on Tucker's floor. Danny had only discovered yesterday, on his first day of work, that Konnektor was also a small subsidiary of DALV Incorporated. Vlad's so _not_ charming picture had made that obvious.

At least it was isolated. No one he knew saw him down here; honestly, hardly _anyone_ did, as even the other workers were cut off by their cubicles. And the manager, so far, had come around so infrequently that Danny could get away with...

Danny started up the iPod he had tucked carefully under his shirt, and zoned out as he got to work. Staple removal didn't require much brain power.

His wandering thoughts, as a result, immediately flew to his biggest worry.

Sam.

He loved being around her. They made each other laugh. They could talk about anything for hours. He could trust her completely, with everything about himself. Just being around her helped him relax, and he was attracted to her, very much so. He could see himself living a lifetime with her.

But something held him back, even though he knew time was running out.

Perhaps a month had passed since "the talk"with his dad, and Danny could feel the tension growing. He was in summer school now, taking calculus as planned, and he'd just started this part time job, which helped things a lot, since it showed he was capable of being responsible. Jazz was also back, and he was almost sure she was doing her best to keep their parents reigned in, to "give him a little more time."

But he still wasn't directly "taking responsibility," and it was just a matter of time before that blew up in his face, he was sure.

And it would probably be in the most embarrassing way possible. Like...his dad would get a hold of Sam sometime and ask her if they had discussed a date for the wedding yet.

Danny shuddered. Sam still didn't _know_! He had yet to tell her that his parents thought he was the dad; it would lead right into the question he was too terrified to ask her. Besides, it was just plain embarrassing. On that note, though, what about _Sam's_ parents? Sam's mom, using the secret language of the death glare, had made it crystal clear on multiple occasions who _she_ blamed for Sam's current situation. Had she talked to Sam? If so, Sam hadn't said anything to him about it, which was...potentially worrying.

Or maybe that was a good thing? Danny sighed unhappily, and paused in pulling staples for a moment. He wanted things to be right. He needed to _make_ things right. But his anxiety rose exponentially every time he seriously thought about how to ask Sam out. Who said that would make everything better, anyway? Maybe that was just what _he_ wanted, and she'd be horrified and distressed if he told her how he felt...

Danny sighed again, and went back to pulling staples. Deep down, he knew that wasn't the problem. There was no way he was imagining that...special chemistry they shared.

He liked Sam, Sam liked him. That wasn't the problem. Then what was? Just thinking about their possible shift from friendship to romance brought up a mix of anxiety and guilt.

Danny stared down at his hands, his work forgotten, and the music on his iPod became a distant noise. He hated those feelings, especially since he knew Sam wanted him to let go, and look to the future. It was linked to everything she'd been put through...and to his realization of how he'd completely failed to protect her.

It was hard to let that guilt go, and maybe moving from friend to boyfriend- someone, in his mind, who was supposed to look out for and protect their girl- brought that feeling up in him. Thankfully it wasn't at the forefront of his mind all the time. It came and went, and he hoped that it would soon fade altogether.

And it was still better than the burning need for revenge he'd felt for months, which had finally left him. Now, Danny decided, it would be enough if he simply never had to see or even _think_ of Clockwork and his future self ever again. The only catch there was that Danny wanted- _needed_- to know that they wouldn't come back to hurt or meddle with him and his loved ones again.

Fortunately Sam still wore her warning watch, which was matched to his own, so that he could get to her quickly if she was in trouble. And he still guarded her at night. But this was all he could think to do, since confronting his enemies directly wouldn't accomplish anything. He'd already learned that he couldn't trust anything either said, and he wasn't willing to truly destroy them. And it was practically impossible to confront them anyway since Clockwork, who could hide in the past or future, was involved.

Danny sighed quietly, and got back to pulling staples. So...that meant he'd simply have to stay alert. And, logically, the more time he spent near Sam, the easier that would be.

His shoulders relaxed a little. He definitely couldn't complain about spending time with Sam...

In fact, if they were a couple, he could spend even _more_ time near her, which would better. And if they...got married, they'd share a house, and they'd always be in the same room at night...

Danny blushed pink.

Then he frowned in consternation. _Yeah_. Assuming he ever asked her out, of course.

_Sam, I need to date you...for your protection!_

His blush deepened as pictures of his super hero ghost self, the one wrapped in a bed sheet, sprang up. Sam, as he recalled, had _not_ been impressed. Danny frowned more deeply, and a feeling of desperation came over him. That version of him _had_ been really brave...

S_tupid, stupid, stupid... _Danny hit his head softly on the desk a few times, then sat slumped, his forehead on the desk, and stared at his feet. _Definitely not._

What he needed to do was stick to the basics: he liked Sam, she liked him. Simple! Now he just needed to ask her out...

Crud! _How_ was he going to do this, again?

* * *

"Hey Jazzypants! You've got mail!" Jack's booming voice carried across the living room to where Jazz sat on the couch channel surfing. A moment later he was at her side, and handed over a few envelopes, with a curious look on his face. "Looks like you got something interesting..."

"Eh?" She raised her eyebrows, and leafed through. Credit card offer...credit card offer...another credit card offer...

And what looked like a letter from one Dimitri Mihailov. Weird. She puzzled over it for a moment, then began to carefully rip open the envelope. The writing looked strangely familiar.

_Hmm.._.

"Sounds Russian! Is he someone from school?" Jazz started, and looked up into her father's eyes. Then the writing style clicked in her mind.

_Danny._

Jazz jumped up hurriedly. "Um, yeah, sorry Dad, this is private..." She headed up the stairs at a jog, leaving her father more curious than before.

After closing and locking the door, Jazz sat at her desk and continued opening the envelope. This was Danny's writing, but there was no reason for him to use a pseudonym. And that left only one realistic option.

Jazz realized she was holding her breath, and let it go. Then she drew out the letter and opened it nervously. A scrap of something fell out, and she picked it up.

It was a black and white newspaper clipping with a picture featuring Danny, who was smiling widely. He sported a goatee and shoulder length hair, which was held back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was wearing an expensive looking suit. He looked rich and powerful.

Vlad was standing next to him. His smile was smaller, yet smugger at the same time. Or at least that was how it struck Jazz, whose stomach was beginning to twist into knots. Danny's older self, working with Vlad...

The headline read "Family of Fortune." _Dimitri Mihailov, second cousin to Vlad Masters, has recently partnered with the multi-billionaire to grow the small but promising company known as New Age Utilities into another financial power house. Mr. Masters admitted to us in an interview this morning that his young cousin is primarily responsible for moving New Age Utilities to a larger (and they predict eventually global) market, while Mr. Masters has been enjoying the experience of overseeing his cousin's, and proclaimed protege's, personal growth as a business entrepreneur. Dimitri appears to have the knack, because the profit for the once tiny company has already grown fifty times over, and shows no signs of slowing down. Dimitri, also present this morning, only half jokingly__ suggested we buy stock..._

The article went into more detail on New Age Utilities, and rounded off by predicting that young Dimitri Mihailov would grow into another business giant, especially with the guiding influence of none other than Vlad Masters.

Jazz put the article down, and stared through it unseeingly. She felt afraid to read the letter. What if it was a threat? What could they do? Danny was powerful, but this was more than physical strength, it was...

Just not anything she wanted to think about. Jazz tilted her head, and frowned into the distance. And yet, in all these years, Vlad had never done anything truly drastic to them. And he could have. Of course, she had her pet theories about that, but they didn't really reflect on what Danny's future self might do in his position...

Jazz slowly picked up the letter, her heart in her throat. This could be the harbinger of so many horrible things, the end of their world...in Danny's handwriting. It made her nauseous.

_Jazz._

_First of all this is in no way a threat, so you can calm down. _

_Second: I'm sorry. A thousand times over. I'm sorry, for everything. I wish this letter could convey to you how I feel, how I've changed. It can't._

_I will say that I love you, all of you. I will never hurt any of you again in any way. And if you don't believe me, at least rest assured that Clockwork won't allow it._

_You're probably worried about me and Vlad working together, right? You don't need to be, believe me. That's easier said than done, I know. But essentially, Vlad helped get me back on my feet after Christmas, and along the way I asked him to teach me a few things about business. He agreed, and things took off from there. You're still suspicious, right? All I can say is that what you see in that newspaper is what you get. Nothing more. There is no evil plan in the works._

There were a few erase marks, which showed that he had started over the next paragraph at least once.

_Maybe this will help. Vlad's a better guy than we gave him credit for, Jazz. In my original timeline, when you and everyone else had died, he was there for me. For an entire year, he looked after me. I can't explain that in a letter either, even if I wrote out every single thing he did. But I learned a lot about him then, and I can definitely say that you can relax. That doesn't mean he's a saint. For instance, I guarantee he's found a way to read this letter. But when it comes down to it, he's mostly harmless._

_So. You've got to be wondering why I've gone into big business, right? There's an important reason behind it, and no, it's not because I'm a power hungry megalomaniac. My younger self should probably re-read this part: I am not a power hungry megalomaniac. But I have been a monster. I've done terrible things._

_I'll probably never be able to wipe the slate clean, but I can't _not_ try to make up for what I did, Jazz. At the same time I can't afford, and don't deserve, to act as some kind of Superman to the world. For one, my self control isn't something I want to push. One punch, even in the name of good, could be dangerous for me to throw. That's why I wouldn't fight back against my younger self last winter- I promised myself I'd never throw that punch._

_So basically, I'm going to make myself the richest man on the planet instead. Then I'll funnel my money into good causes, like charities, and humanitarian groups. And since I know you're thinking it: the money is clean and will _always_ be clean. No overshadowing, no cheating. Despite what you probably think, Vlad is a natural businessman. It's true he cheated to get into the game, but his success would've ended a long time ago if he hadn't backed it up with some real work. He's been teaching me those tricks- the _legal_ ones. No powers, unless you count my ability to go without sleep for weeks at a time._

_So what do you think of my human disguise? I hope it doesn't freak you out too much. It's simply easier for me to maintain something close to my natural form, which is why I look so much like my younger self- though I think the goatee and longer hair should work nicely to differentiate us. Anyway, I thought that seeing a picture of me now, with an explanation, as opposed to when you're leafing through the newspaper, would be less of a shock._

_About the money, though: I don't want to be in charge of how it's used, and I shouldn't be. With her permission, I want to leave that in the hands of a wiser and better person. Sam. She's a natural philanthropist, but practical at the same time. She'll know how to use the money best. Just so you know how serious I am, the back of this letter has the information she'll need to access an account I've set up for her. The money there is hers._

_There is no obligation of any kind here. I honestly think she's the best person for this, nothing more. Back in high school, all the other kids in our grade were thinking about how to be cool, myself included. I'll never forget Sam's thoughts on the world, on people, her ability to clearly see right and wrong. She stood out, and still does. She is one of the few people in the world I would trust to do the right thing with massive sums of money. And I think that she would like the chance to "make a difference."_

_Please understand, though. I owe you all. And even if Sam uses all that money for years to come, I'll _still_ owe you all, never vice versa. I'm not trying to control, or manipulate any of you in any way. If the money isn't touched, I'll just do something with it myself, eventually._

_I guess that's it. I don't know what else to say, except to reiterate what I told you at the beginning of this letter. I love you all, and I'll never hurt any of you ever again. And I'm grateful for this second chance at life, something I believed for years to be gone. I know it's hard for you to understand, but your existence is a miracle to me. It took me _years_ to adjust to the fact that you're all truly _alive_ again._

There were erase marks again; it looked as though an entire paragraph had been removed.

_There are too many things for me to say, so I'd better stop while I'm ahead. I just wish you could see how sincere I am, but this damn pencil and paper can never do that._

_Please try not to surprise everyone too badly with this, Jazz, especially my younger self. I know I deserve it, but I'd prefer to avoid another beating, and now he'll be able to track me down rather easily._

_Everyone: I know it isn't something I can prove overnight, but I really do mean well._

_With Love,_

_Danny_

Jazz slowly put down the letter. She picked up the newspaper clipping, and looked at his picture again. Tears, glistening in her eyes, slowly traveled down her cheeks.

She already had a little brother. But now there was this. Jazz put down the slip of paper, and covered her face with both hands, secretly terrified that someone might hear her crying.

_Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?_

He couldn't be Danny! Danny was _here_, at _home_! There couldn't be two of them, it didn't make sense! It wasn't _right_! But he wrote with his handwriting, with his style, and she could hear his voice saying the words. It was more sophisticated, but that made sense, if he had been working with Vlad, studying to be a big business CEO...

Jazz found her thoughts turning back, her mind forcing her to analyze every encounter she could remember, everything she had learned about him, how everyone talked about him. Everything he had done. His past.

Her crying got worse. She didn't want to think about it! He had done something unforgivable to Sam, how could she possibly give this letter to them...? How did he expect them to react, when he had tried to kill them all three years ago? How could he write this, as if asking for forgiveness?

Why did he care, when he was supposed to be an inhuman monster, some remnant of Danny's ghost half from another twisted reality? Not..._real_, not..._human_! Jazz took a few shuddering, gulping breaths of air, and curled up her hands so that her eyes were visible again. She peeked down at the picture sitting on the desk.

It was Danny, a little older, with a goatee and a ponytail. It made her tears start up again, and she violently opened the top drawer of her desk, stuffing everything into it. Then she threw herself on the bed, stomach first, and hugged her pillow, trying not to think about it anymore.

But Jazz found that she couldn't think of anything else. She found herself going back over her encounters with Sam, how she had been convinced that he wouldn't fight back against Danny. And she had been right. How though? What had he told Sam to convince her of that in a few minutes time? Jazz had never truly sat down with Sam to talk through her trauma, as she had told herself she would.

She knew Sam, and could guess that she probably hadn't gone to see anyone to work through what she had experienced. No counseling, nothing. And Jazz was too close to her, to the situation. She had been afraid.

So she had put it off. But that didn't mean she hadn't observed Sam's behavior; that wasn't something Jazz could turn off even if she wanted to. And what she saw didn't quite add up. Yes, Sam had been traumatized, but...she seemed...

It was as though Sam was willing to forgive him. Had forgiven him. And Jazz knew that if she thought he was nothing but a bloodthirsty monster she never would have.

But if Sam truly thought that he was another Danny, albeit darker and pure ghost, but still...

_...my brother..._

Jazz turned so that her face wasn't buried in her pillow anymore and opened her eyes, staring off into nothing.

A memory rose suddenly in her mind's eye...a talk she'd had with Danny maybe a month ago over the phone. He had asked her a hard question, and it had upset her. She remembered having to hold back tears. Danny had been so upset...no, it was worse, he'd been _distraught_, and was trying to cover it. And she hadn't known how to answer him.

He had wanted to know if she'd still love him, even if he had done horrible things. Even if he, her brother, was as bad as his evil future self.

Even if, hypothetically, he _was_ his future self. That was what he had asked her. Jazz blinked slowly, frozen in place. She felt light headed.

Suspicion, with dread lurking just behind, seared itself into her mind.

_Who had she been talking to?_

Yet he'd been so sweet, and insightful! He'd told her she was brave, and selfless, and he'd meant it! Jasmine's heart clenched painfully, and she buried her face back in the pillow, hugging it harder than before.

She had secretly cherished those words. He'd sounded so certain, so mature. She'd been so proud of him, her little brother, all grown up.

And that was when she'd told him her answer: that she would always love him, unconditionally.

Jazz sat up violently, and moved around the room in a frenzy of activity; pulling on a sweater, putting on shoes, grabbing her purse. Then she went to her desk, pulled out the letter and newspaper clipping, and carefully placed them back inside their envelope. She snugged the envelope into her purse. That absolutely couldn't be left laying around.

Jazz paused for a moment. Then she got out a hat, and twisted her hair up into it. People always recognized her by her long red hair, and she didn't want to be recognized right now.

She left the house quickly, only taking a moment to yell in a tight voice that she was going out for a while. Then she was off, in her own car. Maybe she'd see a movie, or treat herself to a meal out. But she couldn't sit at home right now just _thinking_. Jazz knew her mind wouldn't truly let things alone, but she couldn't help it.

She wanted to forget for a little while.

Yet the thought was already pushing itself up in her mind:

He had played a truly dirty trick on her, pretending like that.

* * *

Jazz ended up doing both. She caught a matinee showing of some chick flick, and then, feeling only slightly better, had treated herself to an early dinner all the way across town from home. She was currently stirring up her mashed potatoes disconsolately. It was supposedly a comfort food, after all, and that's what she was going for.

It was still early, just after five o'clock in the afternoon, and the restaurant was still relatively empty. Jazz frowned hard for a few moments, and finally gave in. She got out her cell phone, and dialed.

"Hey Jazz, what's up?"

"Tucker." She hesitated for a moment. He sounded a little surprised that she was calling him. And now that she had him on the phone...

"Um, I...can we talk? I'll...treat you to dinner, if you want." She gripped the phone tightly, feeling unusually lost. For once, she didn't know what to do.

There was a short pause. "Er, yeah...I'm always up for free food." He sounded light-hearted, but Jazz knew he could tell something was wrong. "Tell me where, and I'll be there, because I'm heading to the car right now." Jazz did a double take; she'd forgotten that he would just be getting off work. And that meant...

She lowered her voice nervously. "Tucker...Danny isn't with you, is he? I can't...this would be a disaster if he tagged along."

"He works later than me by about four hours, so no. We're good." She could hear the concern in his voice now. "So where am I heading again?"

"Just... Rudy's is fine." It was a smallish place that had a good steak, which would make Tucker happy. And it had quiet, relatively private seating.

* * *

Jazz beat Tucker there, and was already sipping water when he showed up at her table. He gave her a quick searching look, and slid into the booth across from her.

"Hey."

"Hey. Thanks for coming." She stared at her drink, and gave up trying to keep the worry off her face. "I wish it was just...not anything so..." She dropped off, throat suddenly tight.

Tucker looked up at Jazz surreptitiously as she fiddled with her glass of water, face down turned. He'd never heard her stutter so much, ever. And she looked like she might have been crying earlier, if he was any judge.

Then there was the tension radiating off of her in waves. Whatever this was, it was important, and Tucker felt rather nervous about asking her what the problem was.

The waiter came up just then, and Tucker remembered he was at a place with really good steak. "Ready to order?"

"Um, yeah, I'll get the..." he glanced down briefly, "number two. Steak and potatoes." He grinned up at the young man.

The waiter smiled. "A classic." He turned to Jazz. "And you?"

"Just...a hot tea, I guess."

"We have herbal teas, Earl Grey tea, Darjeeng..."

"Darjeeng's fine." She seemed to remember that having a kick to it.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He made a note and took off.

Tucker frowned, watching as Jazz went back to fiddling with her drink. He sighed softly. At least he had a good meal to help him through it, whatever this was about.

He leaned forward, and put his elbows on the table. "So what's up? Jazz." He waited for her to reluctantly look up at him. He had to suppress a flinch.

Tucker had never seen that look on Jazz's face before. She was completely lost, desperate. She put her head in one hand, emotional stress personified. To Tucker's horror, she barely suppressed a sob.

"I don't want to freak you out. He said this wasn't a threat. But..." She looked down at the table for a moment, then started rummaging in her purse. "Just look at it yourself."

* * *

"Eat your steak." Tucker looked up, eyes wide, and sore from being that way for too long. He slowly assimilated what Jazz had just said. Then he tried to grin, and it turned into a grimace.

"I _never_ thought I'd hear that." He glanced over at his plate. "And it's got to be totally cold by now, too." He stared at it for a moment, still holding the letter tightly, and finally handed the whole thing back across to Jazz. As he dug into the food, he realized this had to be the first time he'd completely ignored a fresh, hot steak set directly in front of him before.

Even as he ate, he didn't truly enjoy the food. The picture of Danny with a goatee and a ponytail smiling next to Vlad kept rearranging itself in his head. And if that wasn't enough, the handwriting...

That was just wrong. How he talked in that letter, how he acted, like he was Danny or something...! Tucker found himself gritting his teeth, and forced himself to swallow a super chewed piece of steak. After everything that monster had done, he had the nerve to think this letter would make up for it...

And the idea that he could convince them he wasn't up to something with Vlad, well...how stupid did he think they _were_? The only reason he and Vlad probably sent the letter in the first place was to buy time while they put the finishing touches on some diabolical plan, since they knew they'd be shown in the news sometimes, and that Danny or someone close to him might see and investigate.

And Tucker didn't even want to think about what that diabolical plan probably entailed...but Vlad seemed way too interested in Nathaniel. Not to mention the "father." Tucker put down his fork, staring at his half-finished meal. His fists clenched under the table. He couldn't count the number of times he'd secretly wished he had ghosts powers like Danny, and now was one of those times. He felt so damn powerless! And what about Sam? How did she fit into their scheming?

Tucker's jaw clenched as the disturbing possibilities ran through his head. If only he had ghost powers, just one _day_ with ghost powers, he'd make sure...

"Tucker...I'm sorry I showed you. I just didn't know what to _do_, and I_ couldn't_ show it to Danny or Sam, not right now..." Tucker looked up to see Jazz's guilty face. She was rubbing her thumbs together in a nervous motion.

His anger mostly disappeared, and he reached forward to quickly squeeze one of Jazz's hands; she needed to stop rubbing them like that. "No. Jazz...this isn't something you should keep to yourself." He let go, and looked down at the table, angry again for the pain that monster was causing his so called "sister." How _dare_ he...!

Tucker sat up straight and spoke, keeping his voice low. "Let's go. We can talk in one of our cars." They got up and paid at the front desk, leaving the food behind. A few minutes later found them in Jazz's vehicle in the parking lot. They both sat with arms crossed, Tucker angry, Jazz pensive.

"I..."

"Well..."

They both paused, then Tucker spoke again. "Go ahead." He felt pretty sure about what this letter was- namely a pile of crud- but Jazz seemed less sure, and it was probably a good idea to test the waters with her.

Jazz spoke hesitantly. "I...something about this really bothers me." Tucker looked at her sidelong. She sat staring straight ahead, looking nearly as stressed and confused as when he walked in the restaurant earlier.

"You mean the fact that he's teamed up with Vlad? Or maybe it's the handwriting? Or it could be that horrible goatee..._tasteless_." Tucker spoke in sweet tones, the sarcasm just a hint underneath. He usually wasn't sarcastic at all, but somehow it was slipping out.

Jazz didn't respond immediately. "It's...Tucker..." Tucker watched as Jazz started to cry in a controlled, quiet way. It made him feel terrible. She mopped at her face a little with the sleeve of her sweater, and took a slow tense breath. "I want to..." Jazz stopped, looking afraid.

Tucker spoke quietly. "You want to..."

She looked down, embarrassed. "I want to believe him." She went on almost immediately. "Wait! Not...I don't trust him, but it's complicated." She suddenly sounded miserable. "And part of me wants to believe him."

Neither spoke for a moment. "Please don't tell Danny." She looked up at him, pleading. "He'd never understand, Tucker."

Tucker looked away, uncomfortable and upset. "I'm not sure _I_ understand, Jazz. The guy's a murderer. He tried to kill us all, he's...he hurt Sam, and now he's teamed up with _Vlad_. I'm not seeing any positives here- and that letter was just a bunch of lies. He's probably learning from the master right now."

"I know." She still sounded miserable.

His jaw clenched. "But that doesn't change how you feel."

"No." Tucker looked out the side window, and frowned deeply. Sure, the way the letter was written tried to take everything you knew about this...Danny impostor...and turn it sideways, but that just meant Vlad was a fast teacher.

"We _can't_ tell them about this. Not yet." Jazz's tone was firm, and Tucker looked back around. Her eyes were pleading. "Danny and Sam are finally getting close again, Tucker, and they deserve to be _happy_..."

"And this stupid letter will tear that apart. Again." If seeing Danny's handwriting bothered them, it would devastate Danny. He'd probably revert back to where he was months ago- a guilt ridden robot bodyguard. And he and Sam would both be miserable again. Tucker's hands tightened on his biceps at the thought. "But he's a danger Jazz, now more than ever since he's teamed up with _Vlad_ of all people. I don't want to ruin things for them either, but..." He caught her eye, and faltered. She looked so miserable.

Jazz twisted sideways to face him suddenly, and leaned closer, putting her hands on his arm. Her voice, begging, was even higher than usual, and slightly wobbly. "_Please_, Tucker, now that I've shown you the letter, I know what we should do, and we _shouldn't_ tell them about this yet! Everything's finally settled down again..._Danny's_ finally calming down...and you've _seen_ it, the way they look at each other! I just want their relationship to get a little more _stable_ first, they _deserve_ that time..."

Tucker interrupted, lips tight with his own distress and aggravation. He looked down at her without really looking her in the eye. He felt like the bad guy, but it didn't make sense to put everyone's physical safety after their emotional well being, however much he wished things were different. "Look Jazz, I understand that, but Danny's the one with the ghost powers. He's the only one who has a chance of really stopping his evil..." he stuttered, and scowled, "_self_, and when you factor Vlad in, there's just no way we _can't_ tell him about this. Just think about the difference it could make, if Danny wasn't prepared..."

Jazz was scowling now too, and her tone was desperate. Her hands clenched Tucker's arm tightly. "I know! Please! Just trust me! If this blows up, I'll be more sorry than _anyone_, Tucker! But it won't. _It won't_." She leaned back again, and let his arm go, to look down at her hands. Tears were in her eyes.

Her voice grew soft. "You _have_ to believe me. I just...we don't..."

Tucker spoke softly too, but anger laced his voice. "What? We don't have to worry, like the _letter_ said? This is insane, Jazz. I thought you were smart."

There was a pause, and a sniffle. Tucker uncrossed his arms slowly, and looked down at his hands too. "Sorry." He pulled at his beret, twisting it around to cover his embarrassment. "I didn't mean that. But I don't understand where you're coming from. Can you explain at _all_?" He finally looked over at Jazz again, where she sat pensively staring into nothing.

"Well...I...it's intuition, sort of...but also..." She fiddled with a button on her shirt nervously, and a slight blush came to her cheeks. Tucker's eyebrows went up.

"But also...?" He kept his voice as low and calm as he could. This was obviously hard for her to say.

"He called me on the phone too." Tucker's eyes widened, and fear clenched his stomach. The guy was a maniac. What happened if he called her up again, and she made him angry? Could you say unexplained homicide at Yale?

Jazz went on. "I didn't know it was him, Tucker, and we...we talked for hours."

"So you thought it was Danny." His voice was a monotone.

"Yeah."

"When was this?"

"About a month ago. He was...so lost and upset when he called, and I went into older sister mode, trying to calm him down. And he ended up asking me, hypothetically..." Her blush deepened.

"Hypothetically..." Tucker felt the worry deepen.

"If I would be able to...forgive him. If he was his older future self." Her mouth curved into an unhappy smile, and a small exasperated laugh leaked out. It was too darkly ironic.

Tucker was staring at her outright, amazed, yet at the same time not surprised in the least. His mouth practically moved of its own accord. "And you said you'd forgive him, didn't you?"

"Yes. And that I'd still love him, too, I believe." She didn't look up. Another tear escaped. "And he...Tucker, he was so _sweet_, so...I knew he was too _intense_ about it, but he's been going through a hard time, and you never know what's going to suddenly be _important_ to a person..." She messed with her button for a moment. Tucker waited, feeling shocked. He had no clue what to say anyway.

Jazz, who was struggling with her emotions, finally continued. "I thought it was Danny. It...I don't know what he is, Tucker, but he can't just have only his memories, and talk to me like that, it's just not possible. But I _know_ he's not Danny, there can't be_ two Dannys.._." She hugged herself tightly, curling forward slightly, and Tucker watched in horror as she came completely undone.

Then she was yelling, but her voice was so thin and high from the heavy crying he could barely understand what she said. _"It's not right! It shouldn't be possible! Why did this have to happen? It doesn't make sense for there to be two of them- what does that __**make**__ him? He's not just some 'ectoplasmic manifestation' Tucker, he has feelings and emotions, he has Danny's memories...he thinks he's my __**brother**__..."_ Jazz's hands went to her face as her words became drowned in full blown sobbing. Tucker hesitantly placed a hand on her back, and she slowly calmed down enough to talk, though her hands stayed over her face. Her voice, when it came, was low and strained, and slightly hoarse.

"I _love_ Danny, Tucker. He's my _brother_. And it _hurts_ me to think of this other person who is some sort of strange..._version_ of him who..._what_? What kind of existence has he _had_? It's..." She breathed in violently, in a sort of reverse sob. "You didn't talk to him, you didn't _hear _how he sounded. I've known Danny his _whole life_, and I _couldn't tell it wasn't him_. I can't write that _off_!" She rubbed her temples, and another tiny sob escaped. "But it's like all my worries about Danny are _personified_ in this other him and his, his..._un_-life. And he's done so many _horrible_ things, which is just too much to even think about, and...I'm _ashamed_ of that. That he could be connected with our Danny, that...Danny could've turned into that." Jazz was silent for a moment. Then she started wiping the glistening tears from her cheeks with her sweater sleeves, even though tears still stood in her eyes. She let out a long mournful sigh, and went on speaking, her voice soft. "But I'm sorry for him too, Tucker. How can't I be?" She turned her head to look out the window, face somber.

Tucker tried to think of something to say. But this was bringing up so many things he didn't want to deal with. He had placed Danny's future self in a very neat compartment in his mind which didn't have anything to do with his Danny, his _best friend_. Jazz was right; it was painful to think of that other him as a real person. _Too_ painful. He wiped surreptitiously at the corners of his eyes.

"Jazz..."

But his voice seemed to get her started again, not that he'd figured out anything to say yet.

"Have you thought about the psychology? I mean, he lost everyone, right? Could you _imagine_ that?" Her voice was strangely contemplative and very quiet, as if she were talking to herself. "But...it was worse for him, because of his ghost powers. I mean, people lash out, they're sometimes violent...think about when you hear about a person who goes and kills someone who murdered their spouse, or something. And normally that person wouldn't kill, but they were so emotionally distraught..." She paused, as if lost in thought, and Tucker tried desperately to think of anything to say to make her stop this train of thought. But then Jazz kept going as if she hadn't stopped, and he sat helpless again, trapped by her quiet voice.

"A ghost is so much more _dangerous _than a human- just look at the havoc some ghosts wreck without even trying hard." A sad look briefly replaced her somber expression, and she sighed stoically. "Anger is a natural part of grief, you know. Denial, violence, even self mutilation." Tucker's clenched stomach did a nasty flip flop. _What_? "He's pure ghost, after all. And Danny says...he killed his human half." She tilted her head slightly, still staring out the window. "I take it back. That's not self mutilation, that's...suicide." Her voice was too controlled. It disturbed Tucker deeply. What she was _saying_ disturbed him deeply.

"Jazz, r-remember he merged with Vlad's ghost, right? So I don't think you're seeing things right..." She looked momentarily shocked.

"You're right; I _forgot_." Jazz turned to him, frowning. "But I was talking to _Danny_ on the phone, Tucker, not Vlad. I'm absolutely certain."

Tucker stared at her for a moment, completely taken off guard. This was _not_ how she _said_ it a minute ago! "_Jazz_! So he _sounded_ like Danny. That doesn't _make_ him _Danny_!" He looked away, angry at her, and angry that he'd raised his voice. "_Stop_ talking like that. You're freaking me out." He glanced over to see a look of pain and uncertainty, more welcome than the unnatural detachedness from a moment ago, pass over her face.

Jazz leaned back after a moment, and propped an elbow up against the window frame of the car door, cradling her head in that arm. She closed her eyes, and another sniffle escaped. "I'm sorry Tucker, I'm just tired. And freaked out too. But..." she picked up her head to stare at him for a second, utterly serious, "what I said still goes. I don't want to tell Danny and Sam about this. Just...lets give it just a few _weeks_. _Please_."

Tucker shifted uncomfortably, and finally looked away. "Fine. But...if anything happens I'll _never_ forgive you...or myself." He frowned deeply, and copied Jazz from earlier, rubbing his temples. "Look, I'm tired too, Jazz." He glanced down at his watch. "And it's already...almost seven thirty. And I'm actually getting hungry again since I didn't really eat earlier. So I'll talk to you lat..."

Jazz interrupted, sounding a little desperate. "_Wait_...let's get dinner for real this time. I mean, I didn't really eat earlier either." Tucker stared at her, surprised, and she looked down in embarrassment. "I _really_ don't want to go home yet, Tucker. I just need some time to get my equilibrium back, and I'd rather not be alone, if you don't mind..." Her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. "A-and Danny's working for another couple of hours, right? So it should be okay. He won't have to know you're hanging out with me, or anything." She looked up plaintively. "My treat?"

Tucker smiled lopsidedly; her puppy dog eyes were ridiculously pathetic. "Nah. We'll split it. But _I_ get to choose the restaurant." He paused, feeling a little embarrassed himself. "And Jazz? I don't mind hanging out with you." He caught her eyes, and she slowly smiled at him for the first time that night. He found himself grinning. "You know what? We'll probably be best man and maid of honor at Danny and Sam's wedding someday."

The letter, already tucked away, was carefully forgotten for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Danny had transitioned from doing high school homework on Sam's roof at night to doing his calculus homework instead.

Well...occasionally. Most of the time, like tonight, he sat in relative comfort doing said homework at Sam's desk. It had become a welcome routine. The way Sam had put it, if he was going to be nearby every night guarding her, he might as well do it comfortably. It had given them a chance to get their friendship back together, too.

He sat at her desk now, at a little past midnight. They were both engrossed in their own activities; he in his calculus, her, sitting nearby on the bed, in what looked like a vampire book. Sam snorted, and covered her mouth in a half hearted attempt to muffle a laugh.

Danny leaned back, stretching, and decided it was time for a break. "What's so funny?"

She glanced over, still grinning. "Huh? Just this stupid book. I don't know why I bother reading this stuff." She threw the book down, and stretched her arms. "It's just hilarious- I'd love to see one of these authors come face to face with a _real_ vampire. Assuming they exist, of course."

Danny grinned slightly. "Anything's possible, right?"

"Yeah." She grinned in response, then tilted her head thoughtfully, and raised her eyebrows. "You know who looks like a vampire? _Vlad_."

Danny snorted. "Nah, he looks more like a cross between a vampire and the devil. I mean, look at that _hair_! It comes to two points that look _way_ too much like horns!" He paused, and adopted a thoughtful look. "I bet he gels it."

"_What_?" Sam did a double take, then burst out laughing, and Danny joined in quietly. Then she paused, grinning. "Actually...it probably takes a whole bottle every time, he has so much of it..." They both cracked up again, before calming down.

Sam flopped back on the bed, and groaned. "That's horrible." She looked over, expression overly serious, and her voice grew melodramatic. "Danny, I hate to say this, but...I don't...think...he gels it." He blinked at her as she threw an arm over her face and started laughing again.

"Sam, you're crazy..." He finally grinned himself. "I think you need to get to sleep for the night..."

She stopped laughing after a moment. "No, I don't. I'm not sleepy yet- just goofy. It's different." Still grinning, Sam got up and made her way over to Nathaniel's crib, where he lay snoozing. She bent down slightly, looking at him fondly. "Seriously though...I wonder why Vlad looks like he does? You look relatively normal, and you both went through the same radiation, right?"

Danny got up, stretching more, and came over to stand beside her, crossing his arms comfortably over his chest. "Yeah...I guess. Except his radiation was nastier- less pure. Maybe that's why." He stared down at Nathaniel, who was making cute little noises as the air whistled between his lips. "I wonder what it was like for him, when he first changed?"

"I'm thinking he screamed like a little girl." Sam grinned as Danny snorted involuntarily.

"That's not very nice, Sam."

She shrugged. "He's not nice."

"Can't argue there." He sighed softly, then grinned again. "He probably _did_ scream like a little girl." They both cracked up, laughing quietly. Then they fell into silence, and Danny sighed contentedly. "Why are we talking about Vlad again?" He didn't really care, actually. He felt warm and happy, and very comfortable.

Sam explained. "The book I was reading, vampires...Vlad. Ta da." She paused. "New subject?" She smiled sideways at him.

Danny looked up at the ceiling, and tried to think of something. Unfortunately he immediately settled on the lovely girl he liked a whole lot, who was standing right next to him. His eyes widened as a light blush came to his cheeks, and he frantically tried to think of something else. _Arg, why now?_

"Um, shoelaces? I mean, or..." Danny looked at Sam sidelong. She seemed less than excited by his suggestion.

"Shoelaces." She crossed her arms, feigning annoyance, then broke into a grin, facing him fully. "_What_ are you blushing about, Danny?"

The thought, unstoppable, rose up in him: _this is the chance, ask her out now, this is it..._ He faced her suddenly, excited and nervous, and still blushing.

Their eyes locked, and the mood changed instantly. It occurred to them how close they were standing; close enough to feel each others' body heat.

Sam's heart fluttered at the look in Danny's eyes, and her light-hearted grin fell away. Those eyes drew her in; they were so bright, so intense...

_This is it, he's going to finally ask me out! _Sam felt her heart soar, and tried to keep the excitement from her face. She squashed the insane urge to check her hair, and held his gaze, eyes glowing.

"I..." Danny paused, and his mouth stayed half open. Sam could see him battling with fear. Then his face fell, and she felt the shift, saw the courage leave him...and the moment was gone. She glanced away, trying to hide her disappointment. _Or not._

Danny took a little too long to move on, and the moment grew painful. He rubbed the back of his head, and looked back up at the ceiling. "Er...it was nothing. It was stupid, just..." He dropped off, swallowing hard, and tried to ignore how crushed Sam looked. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm such a loser... _ "It's not important." The words tasted bitter. "I...guess I should get back to the math. This is already kind of a long break." He cringed at the self loathing laced through his voice, and, feeling ashamed, avoided looking Sam in the face.

"Yeah, of course..." Sam wetted her lips almost convulsively, and nodded twice, looking anywhere but at him. She swallowed, and tried to think of something to say, then decided against it. She bit her lower lip, afraid it might start wobbling. _I'm not going to cry over this. This is ridiculous!_

Yet Sam found herself heading toward her bedroom door, feeling like a coward. As she neared it she turned around. "I'm kind of thirsty, Danny. I'll be right back." Her voice was too sweet, and her huge smile could've been plastic. She turned back around quickly and clumsily let herself out.

Danny stared at the door for a long moment, and then bowed his head.

* * *

The next morning found Danny walking slowly around town, lost in thought. He had given up studying fairly early last night, in favor of giving Sam her privacy while she slept, and had returned to lurking on her roof.

Of course, the truth was he couldn't concentrate on math, not after the horrible moment when he'd almost tried, and failed, to ask Sam out. He'd just frozen, the terror of rejection closing his throat like a vice, even as her eyes sparkled up at him, so excited. He'd only been able to think that he'd never see that look again, that she'd be horrified, that she'd tell him to leave. And never come back.

He'd known that wasn't right, almost as soon as the moment passed by. As soon as it was too awkward, too intense to set things right. She'd gone to get the water, and when she returned he'd suggested she needed her sleep, and had excused himself.

Then he'd sat up on the roof, thinking of the look that came into her eyes when it was clear he'd lost his nerve. That disappointed, pathetic, kicked puppy look...

He'd had time last night to figure out what had really happened. He'd been a coward! He'd freaked out when he tried to ask her out, which was bad enough. But then he'd been too afraid to set things right, and too overwhelmed with both his emotions and her reaction to think clearly, and had run away, up to the roof!

Danny hadn't slept- unless a half hour of tossing and turning in bed around dawn counted. Attempting to sleep only magnified how much he'd messed up in his mind. It was clear, now. Sam wanted him to ask her out! It was liberating, and humiliating, because he hadn't been able to see it, and now she was probably feeling completely, utterly horrible.

Danny had given up on sleep quickly, taken a shower, and had skipped breakfast to leave the house on foot with nothing on him but a cell phone and a watch.

He had to set things right. Today, this morning, before ten, he was_ going_ to call Sam up and ask her out.

He glanced down at his wrist for the hundredth time: it was 9:56 a.m.

He slowly stopped walking; the street was mostly empty because of the time of day, and the area of town. He had no excuse, and no time. This was it. Now or never. All or nothing. Sink or swim...

Danny hit his head a few times, softly. _Calm down._ He clenched his jaw twice, and slowly brought the cell phone to his ear. Sam's number was already ready to send.

Then he stood there, like a statue.

_Arrrg! Just DO it! _ With that final burst of self outrage, he hit the send button. It felt strangely similar to the first few times he'd fallen from a distance, with malfunctioning ghost powers.

Pure terror.

The phone rang four and half times before she picked up. "Danny? What's up?" Sam sounded fine, but Danny knew better.

"Hey, Sam...would you..." He swallowed hard. _I love you and I want to date you and marry you and spend my life with you..._

"Danny?" Sam's voice piped up, sounding mildly amused.

"...consider...w-would you consider, _um_…"

"_Yes!_"

"…_dating_ me?" Danny paused, did a double take, then just stood there smiling like an idiot.

Then he blinked. "_Wait_, you_ were_ saying yes to…"

"_Yes_, Danny!" He could hear her laugh elatedly over the phone. "_Yes_."

His smile immediately returned, twice as wide. This was pure bliss! It felt like a thousand Christmas mornings all at once, like his heart was overflowing with elation, amazement, pure joy. His dream was coming true, after everything, after suffering through the loss, the guilt...it was finally real! And somehow the knowledge that even a few months ago this had seemed so impossible made it all the more beautiful and precious.

Danny finally responded, though he could barely speak because his mouth refused to stop smiling, even for a moment. "_Great_." He took a deep breath, swallowed, and ran a hand through his hair hurriedly. "Um, want to go out tonight?"

"Yeah. Five o'clock?" Sam sounded amazing, so incredibly happy that it floored him. He knew he sounded ridiculously happy too.

"Yeah. S-sounds great. I'll...see you then." He hung up, and then just stood there, his whole body tingling with excitement. He was floating on a euphoric cloud.

After several moments Danny's mind finally caught up again. _He had a date with Sam!_ _Sam liked him! And she was dating him! _ He looked around him to make sure no one was around, then he turned invisible and rocketed up, up,_up_ into the sky. _I have a date with Saaaaaam!_

Unlike most people, when he felt so happy he could just _fly_…he _could_!

_I have a date with Sam!_

* * *

It was the afternoon, and Sam had just finished breast feeding Nathaniel. She sat in her window armchair, drapes discreetly drawn, and held him as he fell asleep. The last day had been a roller coaster ride. The almost-question from last night, and then this morning...

She grinned, still ecstatic, and thought about how goofy Danny could be. Even when she'd known what he was trying to ask last night, it had still hurt -a lot- when he hadn't. But she'd had time to think, in the small hours of the night, and when he'd called on the phone that morning, she'd just_ known_ what he was trying to ask.

He'd probably stressed over it most of the night, just like she had. After that phone call Sam had pranced around for a few minutes, called Tucker to tell him the news, and then landed face first in bed to get much needed sleep. She'd only gotten back up a few hours ago, when Nathaniel had decided he was hungry again.

Sam grinned again as she stood up carefully, and took Nathaniel back over to the play pen. She had been on a few dates before, but nothing could compare to the excitement and joy she felt at the thought of spending tonight with Danny...on a date.

She hugged herself after putting down Nathaniel, and the slightly embarrassed thought briefly went by that her behavior right now was about as far from Goth as you got. Only high pitched squeals of delight could make it worse. This thought didn't phase her good mood one iota.

Sam, still grinning, walked over to her bed and plopped down on it, still lost in her own thoughts. It felt like she was moving slowly, in some euphoric haze. Her body had slowed down, allowing her mind to focus in on this moment of true happiness.

There was a small chink of uncertainty there, however. About an hour ago, Sam had asked her mom if she could babysit Nathaniel for a few hours tonight. This wasn't a problem, and wasn't too unusual, especially on a Friday. Her mom had said yes. Then she had asked what Sam would be up to, which was also a habitual question, quickly answered.

Then Sam had told her, in as off-hand a way as she could manage, and had made her escape a moment later.

The look on her mom's face had not been good. In retrospect, she probably should have found a way to break the news a little more gently. But still, Danny had been her friend forever. Her mom probably just needed some time for the change in their relationship to sink in. She hoped.

A knock at the bedroom door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in." Her mother appeared, and Sam's eyes widened at the negative wave of tension coming from her. _Speak of the devil._ She smiled, trying to lighten the suddenly dark mood. "Hey mom."

Her mother stared at her for a long moment. "Dear, we need to talk." Then she closed the bedroom door behind her and came to stand at the desk chair nearby. She looked at it for a moment, as if she was going to pull it out and sit on it. Then she turned, and made her way to Sam's bedside, where she sat instead, only a few feet away. She twisted to face Sam as directly as she could, then folded her hands. The look on her face made Sam cringe with apprehension. Her mother was nervous and a little afraid, but above all she looked deeply upset, almost angry. Sam sat waiting for her to speak, worries from a moment ago churning in her mind.

"Dear…I think you need to tell me who Nathaniel's father is." Sam paled. Her mother had avoided that question for months now, and she _hadn't_ been expecting it.

"Mom, I _told_ you, that's the _one_ thing I really don't…"

Pamela interrupted, mouth tightening. "Now Samantha, let's be frank. You're infatuated with that Danny Fenton boy, and that's what got you into trouble in the _first_ place!"

Sam did a double take. "I…_what_?"

Pamela went on, the distress in her voice palpable. "We're not _stupid_, dear! That boy obviously took _advantage_ of you. He knew you had a crush on him, so he pressured you into doing things you _shouldn't_ have." Her mother looked down at her hands, fretting worriedly, and her face turned guilty. That look was all that kept the shocked and outraged Sam from exploding.

"Your father and I should've looked after you more closely, Sammykins. I know how _hard_ it can be when you're a teenage girl and the boy you like is showering you with attention…"

"Mom! That's _not_ what happened! Danny's _not_ like that!" Sam was sitting up straight now, incensed and afraid at the same time. _No, no, you're so completely __**wrong.**_

Her mother looked back up suddenly, a glint in her eye. "But you're not denying he's the father, _are_ you? You _do_ know that we could demand a DNA check?"

Sam's eyes widened involuntarily, and though she caught herself a split second later, she knew her mother had all the proof she'd ever need that Danny was the father, however…not right that was. But a DNA test _might_ actually support her mother!

"I _thought_ so." Her mother sighed, and looked down at her hands again. "Sweetheart, we _need_ to talk about him. I think you're seeing the world through rose colored glasses."

Sam frowned darkly, still angry and offended at what her mother had suggested. "I assume this is about our date?"

Her mother looked up, and grabbed her hands beseechingly. "_Yes_. Dear, I don't _like_ it. He's already done so much damage, and now he wants to start _dating_ you? You _do_ know you're very attractive, don't you? And_ rich_?"

"_Mother_…!"

Her mother dropped her hands, and turned away angrily, fists clenched. "He's already taken advantage of you once, and now he's realized he can marry you and, and _loaf_ around on _your money_! It's not _right_, I _don't_ want you to date him! I think he's…"

Sam sat up abruptly, grabbing her mother by the shoulders, angry and near tears at the same time. "Mother, stop! _Stop_. You're so _wrong_, you don't _know_ him, you don't _want_ to get to know him, and now you're saying horrible things about him and I _refuse_ to listen to another _word_! I've known Danny almost my whole life! He's my best friend! And you know _what_? _I love him_! This _isn't_ some schoolgirl _crush_!" She sniffled loudly, lower lip wobbling, and her voice dropped to a trembling croak as her emotions stole her voice. "And he _cares_ about _me_ _too_. And…I _won't_ listen to you talk about him like that. _I won't._" She dropped her hands, looking down at her lap, and sniffled softly to herself. Her face felt burning hot.

Several moments passed.

"Sam…" Her mother's voice was quiet, subdued, but a tense emotion belonging to protective mothers everywhere still resonated in it. "Maybe…I'm _wrong_. I…I _hope_ I'm wrong." Sam looked up slowly, and saw tears in her mother's eyes. "Dear, I'm just worried…you're m-my _little girl_…" Her voice wobbled, and she stopped talking. Sam could see her throat constrict, and blinked back her own fresh tears. She slowly leaned forward, and gave her mother a hug.

"Mom, I _know_ you're worried." They stayed like that for a little bit, Sam rubbing her mother's back comfortingly, and they both calmed down a little. Sam sighed, and pulled back, grasping her mother's hands. She looked down at them; they were so similar to hers in size and shape.

It took another moment to get her voice under control, and it still wobbled a little. "Just…_please_ give him a chance? Let him prove himself. I _promise_ he won't let you down." She could feel her mother tense at her words, and a frightening moment passed slowly by.

But then her mother sighed slowly, and the tension left her frame again.

Pamela's gaze was focused on their intertwined hands as well. "Alright, Sam. I'll give him a_ chance_. And…so will your father, I promise." She paused, pursing her lips in aggravation. "Besides, we've never been able to change your mind on _anything_ when you really got set on it, so I know I won't change it now."

Sam smiled a little at that. "Nope."

Her mother finally looked up, her eyes twin daggers. "But I'll be _watching_ him like a _hawk_. And I _don't_ want any funny business happening between you two, do you understand? I know it's a little _late_, but…"

"_Mom_…"

Her eyes softened a little, the worry from earlier returning. "_But_, a boy who really _loves_ you should be willing to _wait_ for some things, Sammykins." Her tone grew harder. "So _this_ time around he'd _better_…"

"_Mom_! He'll be an absolute _gentlemen_, believe me. And I know you don't believe me, but he really is a _complete_ innocent in all this."

They looked at each other, her mother with skeptic's eyes, and Sam with complete sincerity. Pamela tilted her head, still not convinced.

"Well, _promise_ me that nothing with happen."

Sam blushed slightly. "Nothing will happen." Things weren't perfect, but if her mom really thought Danny was the father, Sam was happy she was even _considering_ him...

Her mother frowned angrily. "Well if anything _does_, your father and I are going to go over to that boy's house with a _sledge_hammer…"

"_Mother_!"

"Well, a very good lawyer, then." She crossed her arms, looking completely serious.

A little _too_ serious. Sam couldn't help but smile, and as soon as she did she was laughing out loud, unable to resist. He mother broke down into a slight smile, but she managed not to laugh.

She raised her eyebrows, trying to save face. "I'm _completely_ serious, Sammykins."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I know. _Believe_ me, I _know_."

A moment passed in silence, and then her mother got up from the bed. "Well, I suppose I should let you start getting ready. He's coming here at five o'clock, isn't that right?" She glanced over at the clock. "That's only…an hour away." She forced a smile, but Sam could see worry and uncertainty still bubbling below the surface. Her mother turned to leave.

Sam stared after her, feeling disappointed. "Mom! Wait."

Her mom stuck her head around the door frame, frowning slightly. She looked a little sad. "Yes dear?"

"Would you…mind helping me with my hair?"

The look in her mother's eyes made everything right again. "_Really_? You almost never let me…"

Sam tried to keep the grin from her face. "Yeah, well, you have some cool stuff you do sometimes. Just…nothing _too_ frilly, okay?"

"Well, I think I can handle _that_..." Her mother let herself back in, and bustled over to Sam's bathroom to get supplies.

* * *

Danny was wearing his nicest pair of slacks- a midnight blue color- and a white button down shirt, neatly pressed. The dress jacket he also wore was slightly big, but the color, another shade of dark blue, blended well with the pants. Besides, he needed the jacket because he also wore a tie, which was a pale blue (to match his eyes), and shiny black dress shoes, courtesy of a last minute run to the mall by Jazz.

Yeah. His mom and sister had dressed him, and he was grateful. He actually looked pretty good, he thought. And a lot nicer than if he'd done the choosing, for sure.

Then there were the roses. Maddie and Jazz had debated over it, and had finally decided white was best for a first date. Danny had argued- briefly- but had given in, especially when Jazz came back (she had combined errands) with a dozen white roses, tinged at their budding tips with pale orange, wrapped up in deep, deep blue shimmery paper, almost black. The effect was lovely, and striking. Sam would love them.

He stood with them now in his right hand, in front of her doorstep, nervously waiting for someone to answer. Several things were only now occurring to him. What if she was dressed casually? That would be embarrassing! Or what if her mom or dad answered the door? In fact, her parents terrified him, and now, with the roses, he'd probably have to wait around while they found a vase or something...

Then the door opened, and Danny stopped worrying.

Sam wore her hair up, which left her slender neck bare, except for a simple, elegant necklace. which seemed to draw his gaze down. She wore a shimmery miniature jacket, dark green and transparent, over a a sleek short sleeved dress, which was black. It fell to just below her knees, and flared out at her hips, which accented her beautiful figure.

"Hey." Her voice jolted him, and his eyes fell to her shoes, also black, in embarrassment. Then he looked back up, blushing, and suddenly nervous for entirely different reasons.

"Hey." He swallowed. She was smiling shyly, a soft blush on her cheeks, and her eyes glowed. Danny was transfixed, caught by the look in her eyes more than by anything else about her, and he followed her gaze as it drifted down to his right hand. Then his mind caught back up.

"H-here." He held the roses out, and she took them, smelling them carefully.

"They're beautiful."

"I...not..."_Not as much as you. _His blush deepened, the words too hard to say, and Danny looked down, smiling sheepishly. "I'm glad you like them."

Sam backed up slightly, her smile growing hesitant. "I should put these in water..."

Danny nearly did a double take as Sam's mother appeared from behind the door frame and placed her hand lightly on Sam's forearm.

"I'll take care of these, dear." She spared him a polite glance, then smiled at Sam, who smiled back, looking grateful.

It was a little stunning. Where was the death glare? It was then that he noticed Sam's father, standing quietly by the stairs. His face was somber, and his eyes stared into Danny's, quietly searching.

Sam's mother's voice came low and soft, drawing Danny's attention back. "Mr. Fenton, I expect that you'll to be a perfect gentlemen tonight." Her tone, though non-threatening, was still subtly intense. She stared up at him intently, and Danny couldn't look away.

Then, thankfully, she turned to Sam, and kissed her carefully on the cheek. "Sweetheart, have a wonderful time. Be back before twelve?" Her eyes were a little too bright, and Danny found himself looking away. He felt like an intruder.

"Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem, Mom." Sam's voice was a little too intense, and Danny could see her from the corner of his eye as she moved forward for an impromptu hug.

Then he felt someone's eyes on him, and his own gaze was drawn back to the silent figure by the stairs. Sam's father was watching him again, with a slight frown on his brow, and Danny nodded to him hesitantly, wishing he could communicate how much Sam meant to him. Her father's chin dipped slightly, but Danny couldn't decide if it was a nod or something else.

Then Sam put her hand gently on his forearm. "Come on." He stared down at her radiant face for a moment, before slowly smiling back.

It was unbelievable, but it looked like Sam's parents were giving him a chance. Another weight Danny hadn't known he was carrying silently left his shoulders, and he stood just a little straighter.

Then he turned, and stepped back so that Sam could step through the front door ahead of him. He followed her out, then bent his left arm at the elbow and offered it to her. She took it, a slight look of surprise melting into happiness.

Then Danny turned slightly, and gave Sam's parents a tiny but unmistakable bow. He turned back to Sam, whose mouth was slightly open, and led her gently forward.

"Your hair looks really pretty."

Sam held his arm a little tighter, and he could feel the happiness coming from her.

"My mom fixed it. It's called a French twist." Danny grinned wryly, and found that he wasn't surprised. When they got to his car, he opened the passenger door for her, helped her in, and closed it back before heading to the driver's side.

Now, even more than before, he was determined to do things by the book, and prove to Sam's parents that he had nothing but love and respect for their daughter. He would become the living example that proved chivalry was _not_ dead.

* * *

The Box Ghost was on the prowl for his favorite thing. Boxes! And he didn't want any old box, he wanted something special to mark his bold defiance of the powerful halfa Danny Phantom.

So he was prowling one of Amity's richer neighborhoods. The Phantom lived several streets away (it was one of the few specific locations the Box Ghost was certain of) so he shouldn't have to fear any retribution...while boldly defying the halfa. In secret.

"I fear _not_ your scary ghost catching device..." His voice was barely a whisper as he wandered through the walls of a particularly nice house.

Then he saw something special. It was a huge box! The squareness of it was astounding, the regularity...

He had rarely scene such a boxy box. It was perfect.

He glanced around. There were people in the other room eating, but if he was careful they probably wouldn't notice...

The Box Ghost floated forward, grabbing the large grey box, and made off into the night.

* * *

_Author's Note: Was it clear that he just took off with Nathaniel's playpen? Because he did. Dum dum dum..._


	24. Never Say Never

Author's Note: If you read the last chapter right after it was posted, you should know that I edited it toward the end substantially. You might want to click back, even, to see what changed. But if you don't the little "previous chapter" intro will, um, probably suffice.

* * *

**Previous Chapter:**

"I fear _not_ your scary ghost catching device..." The Box Ghost's voice was barely a whisper as he wandered through the walls of a home in one of Amity's classier neighborhoods. Danny Phantom lived several streets away (it was one of the few specific locations the Box Ghost was certain of) so he shouldn't have to fear any retribution while boldly defying the halfa. In secret.

Then he saw something special. It _called_ to him. It was a box, just the kind of thing he'd been hoping to find! The squareness of it was astounding, the regularity...

He had rarely seen such a boxy box. It was perfect, although for some reason the owners had covered it with ugly blankets.

He glanced around. There were people in the other room eating, but if he was careful they probably wouldn't notice...

The Box Ghost floated forward, tugged off the silly blankets, grabbed the large grey box, and made off into the night.

* * *

**Chapter 24: Never Say Never  
**

Vlad Masters sat in front of his monitor screens down in the lab. He had some time to himself, since Daniel was in New York on business and wouldn't be back for a day or two. Surprisingly, this was the longest they'd been apart for months, and Vlad only now realized the stress Daniel's presence had brought. Allowing someone to share his living space, however large it was, had made him tense, particularly in light of the lies that still remained between them.

That said, Vlad would certainly be eager to talk with Daniel when he returned. But for now he could indulge in certain activities a little more freely.

He smirked to himself and hummed a little tune as he brought up the familiar camera feed used to monitor Nathaniel. First he'd check on the live feed, then he'd hop back and peruse through the child's day, looking for any interesting moments...

Vlad spasmed, and clenched the edge of his desk hard.

The _external_ _playpen_ feed..._that_ wasn't Samantha's room...that wasn't anywhere in _Amity_!

That was the _Ghost Zone_.

He scrambled frantically, heart racing, and brought up the internal playpen feed. And...

There was Nathaniel, asleep, though even as Vlad watched, the boy shifted slightly as though the entire play pen had tilted...

Fudge Buckets!! What had _happened_? Where was Samantha, and Daniel, the ever faithful watch dog?

Vlad brought up video feed after video feed, growing more and more worried. He had limited resources: a few cameras in Samantha's bedroom, then two cameras installed in the playpen itself, one looking inside and one looking out. And that was it for her house, he hadn't bothered with the other rooms!

Images whisked by as he tried to figure out when and how Nathaniel had been taken. It was infuriating, for whoever held the playpen now was completely out of range of the camera. Or invisible.

There! The playpen was moved only an hour ago...

No, they were just taking it downstairs...so that Samantha's parents could watch Nathaniel while she was out...apparently with Daniel...

Vlad paused for the briefest instant. But there was no time to think about those two.

Then he saw it: there was the briefest blur of a ghostly hand, and the playpen floated up and away just about, ah...half an hour ago. Vlad skipped the video back, saved a clip of the ghostly kidnapper's appendage as it flitted through the camera's line of vision, and set the clip to repeat.

Where had he seen that hand? _Where_ did he recognize it...

_Oh. No. How...__**utterly**__ idiotic._ Vlad felt himself calm slightly.

It was the Box Ghost, of all the stupid...

Of course. The playpen was a box! Yet the obnoxious cretin had already gotten it back to the Ghost Zone somehow, and Vlad knew how dangerous things could get there...

Vlad shifted to ghost form and flew to a nearby wall, grabbing a utility belt that hung there. Thank goodness he was always prepared! This had a few gadgets he'd need, and only a moment was needed to reformat them...

Vlad flew off into the Ghost Zone a minute later, with the live video feed and the tracking signal from Nathaniel's playpen rerouted to the belt he wore.

* * *

Danny closed the front door to Vlad's mansion with his foot, as his hands were occupied with massaging his scalp. He pulled out the rubber band holding his hair in place, and shook his head, sighing loudly.

Ahh, better.

Then he allowed his human disguise to drop, knowing full well by now that Vlad regularly doctored everything he "recorded" inside the mansion should the FBI ever take an interest.

Ahhhh, _much_ better. His hair rose around his head as the fire returned to it, and he rolled his neck around a few times, getting the cricks out. There were some serious inconveniences to pretending to be human and being stuck with conventional travel for the sake of appearances was one of them.

_Now. Where is Vlad, anyway...?_

"Vlaaaaaaaad, I'm baaaack! Got done early!" It wasn't surprising. Signing on an advertising firm for the world's first _practical_ universal adapter? Easy.

Receiving no answer, Danny made his way at a comfortable pace toward the study, where Vlad was most likely to be. All this space, and the guy still spent most of his time there or in the lab...

He wasn't there. Danny slowly stretched his arms over his head, getting a few more cricks out. Well, maybe he was in the lab after all...

Danny left the study and made his way upstairs as if continuing to search, while an invisible double split off and headed down below.

He had come to terms with Vlad's duplicity after his initial reaction to the older man's habit of spying on his son, and...others, indirectly. Danny even, occasionally, allowed himself to wander down below, where he could pull up the live feed, for just a few moments of time where he could watch his child...

In fact, if Vlad wasn't here, he might just take some time right now. Danny dipped into the lab, completely silent.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the swirling green of the Ghost Zone portal. He stared for a moment, then glanced around. The lab, surprisingly, was deserted.

Danny frowned uneasily. Vlad never left the portal sitting open. Danny was sure he considered it unnecessarily dangerous, which it was. Danny floated over to glance carefully outside, still invisible. Perhaps Vlad was very close by? In that case, bringing up the video feed wasn't an option. But still, Danny felt drawn to at least take a glance.

And besides, something wasn't sitting right. He floated over to the computer, squinting as he noticed a video already playing...

No, it was a video _clip_, repeating over and over...

Everything suddenly clicked: the portal being open, this particular video clip, set on repeat! Every hair on Danny's body stood up and his double, still upstairs, raced to him as he ceased bothering to hide. His eyes glowed bright, too bright, and his whole body rose in the air, tense with the need for action.

_**No! No!! Not Nathaniel...**_

Now he knew why Vlad had left things so quickly! If anything happened to his son...!

Danny's hands clenched his flaming hair convulsively as he struggled with himself, the battle for the self control raging inside him once again, a battle he'd almost started taking for granted as won.

_I'll kill him, I'll __**kill**__ that idiot ghost!_

"_Arrrg_!!" Danny drew himself into a ball, as tight as he could, then tighter still. His hands scratched harshly along his scalp and neck.

"_Rrrr..._" _Control, control, control...!!_ His instincts demanded he destroy something, but that _wouldn't_ help!

_**Calm down!**_

_Calm down!_

_Calm...down._

Slowly, Danny uncurled, and carefully shook himself out. His jaw was still clenched, a muscle there jumping repeatedly, but he was thinking clearly now. He was under control.

But he _wouldn't_ let this happen. He wasn't going to watch, _again_, as the most precious person in his life was _permanently_ _taken away_.

After studying the video screen a few more moments, Danny left for the Ghost Zone, a new mantra repeating in his head.

_It's only the Box Ghost, only the Box Ghost..._

Nathaniel would be alright. He _had_ to be.

* * *

"Well, if it isn't the Box Ghost! And look, Bertrand, he has a box." The Box Ghost stared guardedly at the ghost known as Spectra. He didn't like her or her friend, and they had just popped out of thin air which, in the Ghost Zone, was pretty lousy manners.

Spectra addressed him directly. "Did you get that from the human world just now?" She was smiling and her voice was fairly pleasant, but her eyes were hard.

The Box Ghost felt his expression close down. He didn't trust her, but couldn't think of anything to say, as usual. "I...yes?"

Her smile froze slightly at his simplistic response. "Right...right. You know, I've always admired your control over boxes. Keeping it solid like that, even in the Ghost Zone...it's _quite_ an accomplishment!"

"I..." The Box Ghost knew he wasn't doing anything special, but heck. "I am the Box Ghost!"

"Yes..." Spectra floated closer, and her smile turned strange. He thought briefly of a shark. "Tell me, how are things in Amity getting along? How's the...Fenton kid...our little _halfa_ doing?" Her smile darkened noticeably. "Still on a rampage?"

"I..." He had to make something up! He didn't want to look like a total coward, after all. "I, the Box Ghost, boldly _defied_ the..."

She rolled her eyes, and interrupted. "Right! Let's cut to the chase...have you actually run _into_ him lately? Yes or no?" Spectra had her arms crossed, and Bertrand, creepy as ever, had moved out of the Box Ghost's line of vision.

He hugged the box to him as best he could, and tried to look smart. He really hated Spectra. "Perhaps..."

"Hih-_choo_."

Everyone paused. Then they stared down at the box.

Spectra looked incredulous. "What the hell was _that_? A _baby_? Did you steal someone's _playpen_?" Then she raised an eyebrow, and smirked at him. "I didn't think you had it in you."

The Box Ghost was secretly mortified. _He_ didn't think he had it in him either.

Spectra's smirk widened. "I'd take that back to the human world if I were you. If Phantom finds out you stole someone's kid, he'll _kill_ you." She smiled, and put a hand on the playpen, looking it over again. "You know, this is the ugliest playpen I've ever..." Her eyes widened and she petered off. "Where...did you get this? On second thought, it looks..." She looked up, suddenly piercing the Box Ghost with a sharp stare, and he flinched in surprise.

Then she glanced behind him. "Bertrand..."

The Box Ghost flinched again, violently, and nearly lost control of the box as Bertrand appeared out of nowhere, floating less than a foot away.

His hands were resting on the playpen. "Huh. I can't get in."

Spectra's voice went strangely quiet. "What?"

"It's solid. Can't phase through."

Two sets of eyes zeroed in on the Box Ghost, and he shrank visibly. Even if he _had_ been maintaining its tangibility, which he wasn't, Bertrand should have easily gotten through since human objects were naturally intangible in the Ghost Zone. Still, the Box Ghost had thought it was just a very special box!

Spectra spoke, her eyes even wider. "_Where_ did you get this? We _saw_ you come out of the Fenton Portal just now..." Her nostrils flared, her face glowing with excitement. "Open it! I want a _look_!"

He stared for a moment too long, as fear rose in the pit of his stomach. This wasn't _right_, he needed to take it back...

"Never mind!" The playpen was yanked out of his hands, and a distinct 'oomph!' came from within. Spectra and Bertrand paused for an instant. Then both ghosts fumbled with the playpen for several moments, until a faint click was heard, and the top opened up. The Box Ghost came over, morbidly curious as to just how much trouble he had gotten himself into. Even _he_ understood the significance of a ghostly playpen in the human world...or, or...a _halfa_ playpen, he supposed, since it was solid in both worlds.

But it hadn't come from the Fenton _household_!

One look killed that thought. The child was sitting, leaning forward with one hand splayed out for support. The other hand held a teething ring, which he was biting down on half heartedly. Most of the tiny boy's bewildered attention was focused up. His look seemed to say "What's all the shaking about, and who are you funny people?"

He had black hair and blue eyes, and even if you _didn't_ squint, he looked like a pint-sized version of Danny Fenton, minus a full set of teeth. As they all stared down, the tiny boy took the teething ring out and closed his mouth, looking more worried by the moment.

This playpen needed to go back to the human world, _now_! "I...the Box Ghost..._must_ take..." He tugged at the pen, a step away from panic. The look on Spectra's face was making him queasy.

Between Spectra and Bertrand, who were both ignoring him, the pen didn't budge. Spectra began talking excitedly.

"It makes sense...it makes _sense_, Bertrand! Who was the brat _looking_ for the last time? His little goth girlfriend, who had obviously run _away_ on him! But I suppose she couldn't stay gone long, not with _this_ little bundle of joy." She grinned darkly down at the child, who visibly flinched back and remained silent, as though trying to hide.

The Box Ghost understood how he felt.

Spectra shifted abruptly. "Come on, there's no time. We've got to move."

The playpen was once again yanked away from the Box Ghost's hands, the tiny "oomph" as the child fell sideways more audible this time. He turned to watch as Bertrand and Spectra flew off at top speed with the playpen between them, only taking a moment to slam its lid back into place as they went.

The Box Ghost stared after them, temporarily immobile as the shock of what had happened washed over him slowly. Time passed by, as the events replayed themselves in his head. It was so unbelievable, yet somehow it had happened, and now...?

He was doomed. That was all there was to it. He wasn't one for pondering his existence, but for once, he was certain. He was _dead_! The only thing he had going for him was that he wasn't _really_ going to die, because he was _already_ dead!

This was far from comforting. Danny Phantom could really make things hurt when he wanted to.

But then...Phantom didn't _know_, right? Perhaps the best thing to do was to go back through the portal, wander around for another box, pretend this had never happened? Play it cool?

That kid, though. He was helpless. And he'd looked so confused and afraid, just before they yanked him away.

But what could he _do_? The Box Ghost's brain wasn't willing to reach that far, when it meant facing a distraught Danny Phantom...

So...maybe he could just go home, and...cower?

The Box Ghost had never thought so long or so hard in his entire afterlife.

More time passed.

Then a movement caught his eye, and the Box Ghost looked up to see a small shape grow into the form of a ghost flying at an incredible speed. If there had been time the Box Ghost would've been impressed, but as it was he simply scrambled to get out of the way. The ghost was clearly heading toward the Fenton Portal...

Or not. He watched, amazed as the stranger came to an abrupt halt only feet away from the portal, the nearly instantaneous change in momentum causing his flaming hair to fan briefly out around his head. The ghost turned quickly back around, and focused intently on him. His eyes were a deep red.

He didn't look happy. "_You_. Where's the playpen?"

The Box Ghost stared. This _couldn't_ be good! He tried to look nonchalant. "I know _not_ of what playpen you sp..."

The ghost was suddenly in his face. "Where's. The. Playpen. You _just_. _Stole_." The Box Ghost fought panic as he was pulled up by his shirt until their faces were only inches apart. Something about this person was disturbingly familiar.

"I...know not..._agh_." The ghost's hand moved to his throat, cutting off his words.

A wide grin had spread across the stranger's face. "Think..._really..._hard. Then try again." The ghost's right eye ticked twice, and the manic smile grew nightmarish.

The Box Ghost had a revelation. This guy reminded him of Danny Phantom! Except there was one key difference:

Phantom had _never_ scared him like this.

After a few seconds the pressure on his throat lessened, and he raced to answer. "The ghosts Spectra and Bertrand, they took the box! I did not want to give it to them, but they...they..." He stopped when a fist was suddenly drawn back, and brought his arms up to cover his face. His voice dropped to a whisper. "It was not my fault...I was going to return it..."

"You IDIOT!!" He was shaken hard, twice, and then suddenly let go. He looked up hesitantly, terrified. The ghost was staring off into the distance, face frozen in a look that promised death.

Then the look shifted, slowly, into something softer. But the rage was just below, and the Box Ghost knew better than to move a millimeter.

The ghost turned suddenly, and pierced him with a stare. His voice was a deep growl. "Where did they _go_? Do you remember which _direction_ they went?"

The Box Ghost, completely mortified, closed his eyes and pointed randomly.

"_What_?! I just CAME from...!" The stranger's voice cut off, to be replaced with what sounded like a leaking tire.

The Box Ghost finally glanced up. The stranger's lips were drawn back in a grimace, air hissing from between his teeth. A muscle in his jaw was visibly jumping, and his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

_Clench._

_Unclench._

_Clench._

The temptation to run nearly overwhelmed common sense: he _wouldn't_ get away.

The hissing stopped suddenly, and the stranger focused on him again. He spoke, voice gritty and urgent. "_You_ are going to go _into_ the human world, _find_ Danny Phantom, and _tell_ him that Spectra and Bertrand have the playpen _with_ _Nathaniel_ _in it_. Tell them...Dan sent you." He came forward, nostrils flaring, and grabbed him by the shirt again.

"Do you understand? Repeat what I said. _Now_."

"I-I will go into the human realm, f-find Danny Phantom..." The Box Ghost cringed, trying to look anywhere but him. "T-tell him Spectra and Bertrand have the box..."

_"_Not_ box...!"_ He was shaken, once. _"_Playpen_. _With_ Nathaniel._"

His voice dropped to a whimper. "_P-playpen. With Nathaniel._"

"And tell them _Dan_ sent you. Say the names again!"

"_Nathaniel. D-dan._" He was supposed to tell Danny Phantom he _stole_ his kid?

"Right." He was drawn closer suddenly, and found himself trapped under the stranger's burning gaze. "And if you don't, I _will_ find you. _And you don't want to know what I'll do to you when I do." _The ghost'seyes narrowed dangerously_._ "Do you understand?"

"_Y-yes_."

"Go. _Now_." The Box Ghost was trapped by eyes that promised bloody vengeance for an instant longer, then he was dragged to the Fenton portal, one handed, and thrown in.

* * *

Vlad sped through the Ghost Zone, pushing himself to new limits. He had gotten a nasty shock a few minutes earlier, while flipping between the playpen's external and internal video feeds: the Box Ghost no longer had Nathaniel!

Instead, the child was in the hands of a rather malicious and creatively cruel pair known as Spectra and Bertrand.

Vlad wasn't sure how the switch had taken place, and since the belt could only show real time, he couldn't check. It didn't matter. Probably the Box Ghost was waylaid by the two, who no doubt recognized the opportunity his little "box" represented.

What _did_ matter was that they had been at their lair for five minutes already. For the moment, at least, Nathaniel was still inside the playpen, lid down. Vlad wanted to keep it that way.

Still, even with the fear for Nathaniel's safety coursing through him, Vlad couldn't help see the opportunity this situation presented.

An idea was already percolating.

Why take Nathaniel back to Amity? Vlad had a location, _several_ locations, in a pinch, where he could keep the boy. This was the perfect time, really. Nathaniel had already been kidnapped, playpen and all. Spectra and Bertrand, and even the Box Ghost, represented a buffer between himself and the crime! Perhaps, even...perhaps he could leave a few clues somewhere; a burnt up playpen, a remnant of cloth? Daniel and Samantha wouldn't even try to look, if they believed Nathaniel to be...

Vlad squelched the guilt he felt rising at the thought. He planned to take the boy _eventually_, didn't he? Their loss was unavoidable then, at some point. Why not take him now and get it over with, when he had a convenient way to cover his tracks?

Yes. Now was the time. He simply needed to flesh out a plan.

Vlad smirked. This would be tricky, but if he could offer Spectra and Bertrand something that would keep them quiet about his part in this, something they desperately wanted...

Perhaps this could even work to their mutual benefit, who knew?

Vlad glanced down at the homing beacon again, and adjusted his direction slightly. He was nearly there. When he arrived he would assess the situation, make certain Nathaniel was safe for the moment, and then, hopefully, negotiate.

* * *

The Box Ghost was panicking. On one hand, there was this homicidal maniac waiting to do something terrible to him if he went back out that portal. On the other hand, he'd just lost Danny Phantom's son!

And...he didn't know where the halfa was anyway!! He floated, quivering in mid air. But then, the red haired girl, Jazz, who called him by a stupid, and wrong, name...she might know!

The Box Ghost had generally avoided exploring the Fenton household for multiple reasons, but tonight he began a surprisingly thorough search through the three story building.

* * *

Jazz sat at her desk, perusing the internet for pictures of wedding dresses. She was in an extremely good mood. Danny and Sam, finally together! Okay, so maybe it was a little early to be looking at wedding dresses...but what the heck!

They were so _obviously_ meant to b...

A voice spoke in her ear. "I, the Box Ghost, have a mes..."

"Waagh!" Jazz jumped up, completely caught off guard, one hand held to her heaving chest. She scowled when she realized who it was. "Oh, you are _so_ going in the Fenton thermos..." She turned to where the thermos sat on the desk, but to her surprise the Box Ghost flew forward and grabbed it first. He held it in both hands, crouched over in a strangely subservient manner. Jazz crossed her arms, and seriously considered yelling for her dad. But that would mean dealing with the huge mess Jack Fenton was likely to leave in his wake.

Maybe she could convince the Box Ghost to leave instead? "I don't understand you! Why bother the people you _know_ can kick..."

"I...I bring a message. Where is D-Danny Phantom?"

Jazz stared, caught off guard by his strangely shaky, quiet voice.

"What's the message? I'll tell him later." Like heck she was letting the Box Ghost interrupt Danny's first date ever with Sam!

He seemed to consider this, then shook his head. "No, I must tell him myself, or risk the wrath of a ghost even more..." He swallowed, looking desperate. "Please tell me where Phantom is! I am the Box Ghost!" He slumped. "Beware?"

Jazz frowned softly. She was torn between aggravation and curiosity. The Box Ghost wasn't behaving normally at all. He seemed...almost panicked. It was weird.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and pursed her lips. "Why don't you tell me the message, and I'll decide whether Danny needs to know right now?"

The Box Ghost stared at her, eyes wide, then bowed his head, cradling the Fenton thermos to his chest fearfully.

Then he spoke, going a mile a minute. "I took a large wonderful box, but it was actually a playpen, but then the ghosts Spectra and Bertrand took it from me, and it had the son of Danny Phantom in it, and then later another scary ghost, who..."

"What!?" Jazz's stood, shocked, arms uncrossed, fists clenched. She stared. "You're telling me that Spectra and Bertrand have Nathaniel? Did _they_ send you here?"

"No, an even more terrifying..."

"Get to the _point_!!"

"Dan...his name was D..."

Jazz's eyes widened more. "Flaming hair, red eyes, black and white outfit?"

"Y-yes." It just now occurred to the Box Ghost that there had been a letter D inscribed on said outfit.

"Oh no, oh no...oh my God..." Jazz walked in a mad little circle, before stopping dead. Then she lunged for her cell phone, and grabbed her keys. "Come on! You're going with me!"

The Box Ghost's heart sank. "We are going to tell Danny Ph..."

"_Yes_! And go invisible on the way out, or my mom will get you!"

* * *

Mrs. Pamela Manson tried to keep the panic from her voice as she picked up the house phone. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Manson? Have you, er, checked on Nathaniel lately? Because..." The voice was young, nervous, and female.

Her heart leapt. "Oh! Have you _found_ him?!" There was a long pause, and a horrible thought filled her with terror. "You're not..." She couldn't finish.

_Holding him hostage?_

The voice came again, clipped and tense. "I...I...there's a situation. We're getting it under control right now, Mrs. Manson, so just stay right where you _are_, okay? Don't...worry."

"W-what kind...?" She stopped at the sound of the dial tone.

Pamela slowly sagged to the floor, the telephone receiver still clutched to her chest. The girl's voice had been subtly shaking.

* * *

Jazz was doing ninety-five on the highway. She had called Sam's house before leaving, to confirm that Nathaniel _was _missing. And thus presumably in the hands of Spectra and Bertrand of all people...

It was a ten minute drive to the restaurant, though she could cut that down to five or six, probably. But that was _still_ wasted time! Not that she had a _choice_! Danny and Sam both had their cell phones turned off...

The Box Ghost was quivering next to her. "I do not know if your puny human body should go this fast..."

"Oh shut up! You're a _ghost_!" He cringed, and fell silent. He seemed to be permanently cowed for the evening.

Not that she could _blame_ him. When Danny found out...he'd get the beating he richly deserved, the idiot!!

Jazz swore as red and blue lights started up behind her.

"I do not think that..."

"Shut UP!" Jazz made a nearly suicidal exit off the highway, and careened onward.

* * *

"Here's the plan." Spectra moved as she talked. They were packing the bare essentials, and then they'd be leaving for quite some time. Permanently, if things went well. "We're going to get into the human world through the rift you found last year." There were portals, and then there were rifts, which were difficult to find, almost always less stable, and usually very small. But Bertrand had found several rifts over the years, and the one Spectra mentioned could handle larger objects, such as a child's playpen. It would also, conveniently, place them a few thousand miles away from Danny Phantom's home.

Bertrand nodded briefly as he floated by. He rarely spoke when a gesture would suffice.

A malicious grin twisted Spectra's face. It was obvious, through deduction, who this child belonged to, and any troubling doubts she had were destroyed after a single look.

This boy was Danny Phantom's son. That meddling, pretentious, holier than thou _freak_ with a hero complex!

To put it simply, she loathed him.

Spectra had seen her efforts to move up in the human world destroyed repeatedly by him. Even so, she had been threatening his space. It had been understandable, though she had still hated him for it. But it wasn't until over six months ago, when he had come to them in their ghostly home, that Spectra had vowed to get bloody revenge.

And now the pieces for that revenge were falling into place, and he was partially to thank. Spectra wouldn't have known Sam Manson had gone missing, for instance, if he hadn't come to her and demanded where she was. She wouldn't have realized how incredibly important the girl had become, if he hadn't simply been _reeking_ with worry and panic.

That day, she hadn't been able to resist capitalizing on that. She had attempted to draw out his worry a little more with her special brand of psychotherapy.

Spectra's grin turned to a deep frown. He'd caught on. Then all that lovely despair had turned to pure hatred. And, humiliatingly, he had _used_ them, as ghostly battering rams, to destroy the furniture, the walls..._everything_, really.

She couldn't forgive that. She couldn't forgive his strength, his _ability_, when it came down to it, to completely best them, _both_ of them, in a fight. And yet he was half human, not even a pure ghost! He hadn't worked for countless decades to build up that power! A freak accident had given it to him, by comparison, in an _instant_!

That day, he had lorded that power over them. His face, his words, his _emotions, _everything about him had been focused on driving home their inferiority.

_That_ was why she loathed him.

Spectra's dark grin returned. Now she could take Phantom down, step by agonizing step. And in the end, he would be low, _so_ low, he wouldn't recognize himself anymore. And then she would end it all with a death blow.

The grin fell away. But first they had to get out of here, before Phantom noticed his son's absence. Then the games could begin.

Spectra looked around one last time, and made her way over to the playpen, slinging a bag over her shoulder as she went. Perhaps they could throw all their junk in with the baby for the trip?

Then something made her pause, and she hovered tensely. She slowly unslung the bag from her shoulder.

There was a push at the edge of her mind of another consciousness nearby. "Bertrand. Someone's outside."

He was there in an instant. "What do you want me to do?"

She pressed her lips together, thinking fast. "Take the playpen in there," she pointed to the next room, "Then come back. Stay invisible, and watch for my signal! I'll deal with them if I can." They had a system of hand signals set up, since it was often useful for only one of them to be visible.

Spectra hovered for a moment, then quickly went to a chair and sat down. It was best the "visitor" didn't know she was expecting them. A few moments passed, and then she felt someone enter the room. Whoever it was chose to remain invisible, and moved up to the ceiling. Spectra waited, and a few moments later another ghost entered, visible this time. He was a double of the first ghost. She could tell by the echo of emotions between them; there was only one mind present.

He was Vlad Plasmius, a mystery figure of sorts. He was powerful in his own right, but little was known about his past; how he had died, for instance, or even _if_ he had died. He might have been born to ghostly parents after all, though Spectra doubted it.

She rose to greet him, polite surprise plastered on her face. "Vlad Plasmius. This is quite a surprise." She walked toward him, as he set himself down to stand instead of float, watching her closely. "I wonder, how did you find your way in? No offense meant, of course." His untimely arrival could hardly be a coincidence. Had he been tailing them, and she hadn't noticed? This place was built into a huge mountain of rock, which most thought uninhabitable. Even on close inspection the entrance was likely to be missed.

Vlad's invisible double studied the room from a bird's eye point of view. It was rectangular, perhaps five hundred feet square, with a couch and a few chairs. A living room. There were three doors; the entrance, and two doors leading further inside on the opposite end of the room. Bedrooms, perhaps?

Vlad had glanced one last time at the radar before splitting himself and entering this place, so he knew that Nathaniel was surely behind the door to the right. Vlad's invisible double flew to it.

Across the room, Vlad answered Spectra, a single eyebrow raised. "How did I find my way in? I followed you here. Or more specifically, I followed the child here." A red flag had risen in Vlad's mind in association with these two, and he couldn't think why.

Even together they were no match for him. But then Nathaniel was completely helpless, and Bertrand wasn't in sight. That was probably it, then.

Spectra's smile had dropped. "The child?" Her eyes narrowed. "And why would you be interested in him, Plasmius?"

Vlad tilted his head to the side a little, as if thinking how to answer, while his invisible double searched for a way through Nathaniel's door. Unfortunately ghosts couldn't phase out in the Ghost Zone, and though his double could stretch his form, make it almost like shadow, there _still_ had to be a small gap to get through.

There was none. He would have to...

Vlad's double flinched back as the door opened ever so slightly on its own. Then he threw himself against the wall. Bertrand was coming through that door, he was sure of it! And since intangibility was impossible here, they could literally brush by one another, which would blow his cover.

After a moment the door began to close. He hesitated for an instant, then took a gamble and leaped forward. He just barely slipped through.

In the living room, Vlad suppressed a smile of triumph, and answered Spectra's question. "_Why_ am I, or perhaps why _should_ I, be interested? That's a rather complicated question, my dear. For now let it suffice to know that I am."

Spectra fumed inwardly. She was painfully aware of the switch that had just occurred. Now Bertrand was out here, and Plasmius' _double_ was with the boy!

"Well! If you're so interested in him, why don't we have a _look_, then?" She turned abruptly, crossed the room, threw open the door, and went to stand next to the playpen, Plasmius following behind.

Spectra suppressed a double take. _Drat_! Somehow, Plasmius' double had gotten _inside_ the playpen, right next to the child! He had certainly figured that lock out fast! She hesitated. Still...he was effectively trapped in there for now, right? Instead of flinging the playpen open as she had originally planned, Spectra turned to face Plasmius.

He was smiling, damn him. "What is it that you're planning, Spectra? What is it you hope to _gain_ by keeping this boy?" He raised an eyebrow. "You hardly strike me as the mothering type."

Spectra forced herself to smile and relax a little, as her mind raced. For whatever reason, Plasmius appeared to want the kid, and he was underhanded enough to make off with him if she didn't watch the man _very carefully_. And if it came to a fight, she was far from confident that it would go in their favor. He was turning into an incredible nuisance!

Still. Wasn't he an enemy of Phantom? It was one of the few things that _did_ seem clear about him, elusive as he was. He had antagonized the boy for years, had even enlisted other ghosts' help. This could work for her, assuming he could be made into an ally. Although he _would_ have to go eventually. He was too powerful, too smart. And his emotions were kept on a tight reign, making him difficult to read. Still, perhaps for now things could be worked out...

Spectra caught his eye. What had he asked?

"What do I plan to gain?" She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Don't pretend you don't know whose child this _is._" She smiled, and rested a hand on the playpen. "Can't you _guess_ what I want?"

Plasmius pursed his lips, face unreadable. "Revenge."

"Yes." Her eyes became slits. "_Revenge_. Although I'm sure Phantom will prove to be quite the money maker, too."

The tension Vlad had been feeling was finally softening a little. His double was sitting beside Nathaniel, and the boy, though nervous and a little afraid, looked fine. The situation felt controllable. Now the question was how to most effectively manipulate it to his advantage.

There was only one problem. In taking Nathaniel, he needed to offer Spectra something in return, something to keep her and Bertrand under control for a long time. But it seemed that her desire was to make Daniel suffer.

Guilt flashed through him. Daniel would suffer more than enough, with Nathaniel gone.

Vlad squelched the thought.

He smirked at Spectra, who was watching him closely. He'd get her talking, and give himself some time to think things through a little more. "Please, my dear, tell me more about this...revenge. I'm quite curious. _How_ will he be a money maker, exactly?" He let his face radiate interest.

Spectra flashed a carefully pleasant smile. Plasmius' interest seemed genuine, but his thoughts were somewhere else.

And _why_ the flash of guilt just now? It threw off every assumption she had made about him.

Spectra wouldn't take any chances. She would talk about Phantom and his son for a while, do a little prodding here and there, and soon she would know _exactly_ where Plasmius stood.

Emotions never lied.

* * *

Danny sat with a delirious smile on his face, and played with the last few bites of food on his plate. Sam was in the ladies room right now. It was the first break from each other they'd had all evening.

It gave him time to marvel at everything.

The night was a _dream_. Sam was so funny, so smart, _so_ beautiful, she had _no_ idea...

And _he_ was on a date with her. And everything...just...flowed! It didn't even matter what they talked about, it was amazing.

They were _meant_ for each other. He'd been wanting to think that thought for so long now! Danny hardly realized it though, not until it was there in front of him, ready to be said.

Life had thrown so many things at them, but even so this night was _still_ pure magic. Amazingly, Sam seemed to be just as entranced with him as he was with her!

Danny sighed softly. Nothing could ruin this. In fact, even the restaurant was perfect, and that was admittedly tricky! He would _really_ have to thank Jazz later for telling him about i...

Then again, maybe not.

Danny stared at the entrance and resisted the urge to rub his eyes and look again. Jazz had just appeared there, and was looking quickly around. She spotted him just before he thought to get up, and started waving frantically. Then the Box Ghost popped into existence behind her.

_Right_. His mind traveled back down to earth remarkably fast. Maybe, just _maybe_ he could deal with whatever this was _before_ Sam came back. He jumped up and made his way over as discretely as possible, making throat cutting gestures to Jazz as he went, his eyes going to the Box Ghost repeatedly.

She got the hint and turned violently to the Box Ghost, who quickly went invisible. By the time Danny got over there, Jazz was explaining to a passing waiter that no, in fact, there _wasn't_ a ghost, he needed to get his eyes checked, and _please go away_.

Danny shrugged nonchalantly at the befuddled waiter, who finally turned and walked away.

Then he leaned down to speak quietly. "Jazz...?"

But she turned around frantically, and squinted out the tinted window. He stared at her, nonplussed, as she turned back after a moment, seemingly satisfied, and pulled him out the door by the wrist. She hustled him a little ways from the entrance, then turned to face him.

A cop car passed by on the road, and his sister jumped behind him.

Danny did a double take. "Jazz?"

She looked around him furtively, and answered, voice quiet and distracted. "I kind of out ran a cop..."

Danny put a hand to his head, incredulous. "You what?" This would _almost_ be funny if it wasn't for the look on Jazz's face...and the timing, of course.

She was finally looking him in the eye again, staring up at him, as though she had too much to say, all at once. Her hand trembled lightly on his wrist.

Danny spoke gently, suddenly worried. "What's wrong, Jazz? And why is the Box Ghost following you around?"

Finally she found her voice, all in a rush. "Oh _Danny_! Spectra and Bertrand have Nathaniel!"

Danny stared at her aghast. "Spectra...and Bertrand...?!"

The Box Ghost appeared out of nowhere; Danny had known he was still nearby. "It is not my fault! I did _not_ know..."

Jazz over rode him completely, suddenly manic. "They're somewhere in the Ghost Zone..." She held up a hand to his unspoken question, "I don't know where! Listen, your older self is already looking for him. _He_ sent the Box Ghost!" She let go of him suddenly. "Go help look! I'll tell Sam!"

This was a nightmare.

Danny started to run for a quiet corner where he could transform. Then Jazz's words sank in completely, and he whipped back around.

"What the _hell_ do you mean, my older self?!" Jazz flinched back slightly, eyes wide. Then she stepped forward, tears in the corner of her eyes.

"Would you...would you just get _going_?! _Trust_ me, he's looking for Nathaniel right now!" They were both yelling for some reason.

Danny's hands flew to his hair, where he tugged lightly, eyes going wide. He turned violently to the Box Ghost, grabbed him, and shook him once.

"What the hell is going on?! Did he _send_ you here to _threaten_ us?!" He vaguely registered Jazz pulling at his shoulder. Her voice was getting frantic.

"This is _Spectra_ and _Bertrand_, Danny! _Please_, you _need_ to g..."

Her turned abruptly, face twisting into a mask of anxiety and anger. "Shut UP!" He turned back, pulling the Box Ghost closer. "Answer the question!"

He answered tremulously. "I...it is true...he...he is looking! He was...very angry when I told him about Spectr..."

Danny cut him off. "_Fine_!" He growled for a moment, trying to think. "You're coming _with_ me!" Then he turned, face crumpling briefly into despair. His voice was rougher, quieter, and apologetic. "Jazz...please tell Sam." He avoided her eyes, and quickly turned away, dragging the Box Ghost with him.

This evening couldn't get any worse.

* * *

Spectra thumped the top of the playpen, while keeping her eyes carefully on Plasmius, who stood several feet away. A sly grin twisted the corners of her mouth. "This kid is going to lay me golden eggs, Plasmius." Here was the first test. "Although...I'm sure there will be enough to share, with a few _choice_ individuals." She paused, waiting.

The greed she expected didn't come. She went on, nonplussed. "I'm going to relocate to the human world." There was no need to mention Bertrand, who she could sense hovering nearby. "From there I'll maintain a safe distance and, through video and pictures, I'll let Phantom know I've got his son. Little...Danny Junior." She smirked. "It's simple really. He'll do whatever I want."

Plasmius was certainly a good actor. He truly appeared to be listening, but his emotions were strangely withdrawn, even more closed off than a moment before.

She was almost sure he was tuning her out.

Spectra forced herself to stay calm. She hadn't hit on what he really _wanted_ yet, that was all. "Of course, it isn't just a question about money." _Which clearly doesn't interest you. _ "It's the humiliation! The degradation of his _pristine_ character. The halfa with a _hero_ complex. It makes me _sick_." She felt her anger rise; it didn't take much, when talking about Phantom.

Vlad's thoughts jarred slightly.

_The degradation of his pristine character? _Daniel's distraught face flashed into his mind briefly. No, it was the pain of losing Nathaniel that would truly hurt him, and poor Samantha...

He forced the train of thought to a stop. He couldn't think about that; he _knew_ better. Vlad found himself listening to Spectra, to tune out his own thoughts.

Spectra smiled, and went on. Plasmius was beginning to listen, she could _feel_ it.

"I'll completely _ruin_ him. He won't simply rob banks in the dead of night. Pft, I could do that myself! Oh no. He'll go during the day, and publicly _announce_ himself! And that's just the beginning. He'll destroy anything I _want_ him to. Things precious to society, precious to the world." She laughed briefly. How strange! She could feel a subtle anger welling up inside Plasmius. The question was, what exactly _was_ it that bothered him so?

Listening to Spectra was aggravating. Yes, her plan was cruel, but not so horrible for Daniel as she obviously thought. Everything, property damage included, came second to his family and friends. One only need look at the damage done last winter in Idaho to understand.

An image formed in his mind: Daniel's older self laid up in bed with a mangled arm, a beaten body, and a look on his face that begged for friendship, guidance. From _him_. He had come from a time where they had all _died_...

A leaden ball landed in Vlad's stomach. He would need to be told that Nathaniel was dead too, of course. There was no other way.

Spectra's eyes narrowed. He was feeling _guilty? _But what did that mean? She continued on, pulling subtly at the emotion.

"He'll do it all, with his _son_ at stake. I know he will. You see, I've observed the boy, Plasmius. He cares about family, friends! Those close to him. Everything else...not as much. His life revolves around his loved ones. With his son, I can break him."

She had found the magic words! _Family. Friends._ His guilt had peaked then, and her unique powers would keep it strong. And still there was no greed, unless a peculiar longing she sensed counted as such. Almost...was it loneliness? How odd. In any case, the thought of harm to the halfa and his son was upsetting to Plasmius.

Spectra was nearly certain that he would be an enemy to her, not an ally.

Vlad watched closely as Spectra spoke. He needed to analyze her, and stop these silly, puerile..._pointless_ thoughts! Why was every distressing thought he could have rising to the top of his mind as if propelled there?

For the love of butter biscuits! He _knew_ what he wanted! And he didn't care if it was heartless! He didn't _care._ _He_ came first. No other way was safe. And right now he needed to focus on strategy.

Spectra smirked at his distress, though he hid it perfectly, she had to admit.

It didn't matter. Her ghostly powers were fully awake now. His emotions were beginning to _feed_ her. She went on.

"I'll start small. Oh, maybe he _will_ rob a few banks at night." Her voice grew dark. "But every time, if he wants another picture of his son, another _video_, the price will go up. He'll rob in the daytime. He'll burn down a museum. And so on. Slowly all his happiness, his pride, that narcissistic _hero_ complex...they'll die. Someday, Plasmius, he'll even _kill_ for me."

Then Spectra laughed heartily, eating up his sudden wave of horror, drawing it out, enhancing it. Another hit! The thought of Phantom as a killer deeply disturbed him. She stopped laughing, and gave him a harsh grin. "He will! He'll _kill_, by the end. Isn't my revenge wonderful?"

And Plasmius still stood there somehow, silent, demure, as if what she said was mildly entertaining. Meanwhile, felt her power was rising. He was giving her a full meal, and making his loyalties crystal clear at the same time! Spectra couldn't help it. She laughed again and soaked up, quite unexpectedly, a brief wave of pure anger.

Vlad's smile was in danger of cracking.

_Daniel, a killer._

_But he __**has**__ killed, you fool. You don't know what you're saying! What you're planning! Leave him be! He deserves..._

He couldn't finish the thought.

It distressed him, to imagine either of the two Daniels falling that low. The thought drove deep into a painful, empathetic place he had buried deep a long time ago. Yet it had already been eroding these past months, ever since he had come face to face with Daniel's battle torn, emotionally scarred older self.

The worst had already happened to the boy, once. And now, didn't he deserve, he...deserved...

_Fudge buckets._

Vlad's double, inside the playpen, slowly moved closer to Nathaniel. He wanted to hold the boy. And he _didn't_ want to think. Not about Daniel, older or younger, or Samantha...

His arms ghosted through Nathaniel, completely useless.

Spectra kept talking. "You know what the very best part is, Plasmius? When I've finally sucked Phantom dry, when he's so _low_ he simply can't _imagine_ going on, and life is too much for him..."

_Shut up, shut up, shut up..._

His double grasped Nathaniel's wrist band which, like the playpen, was solid. It would have to go. Nathaniel had been wearing the thing for a few hours now, so he should automatically switch over. The danger was that he could change _back_ again too soon.

It didn't matter. Vlad wanted to hold the boy.

_Nathaniel. My son. __**My**__ son. I deserve this, I _**deserve**_ it!_

Something inside Vlad was being painfully pulled, twisted.

Spectra's voice came through, relentless. "...I'll give him what he wants, Plasmius. What he _deserves_! A meeting with his son, in hell!"

It was all Vlad could do maintain himself, to appear calm, instead of leaping forward and wringing her neck.

_Never, you monster. __**Never**__. _

Something gave. There was a deep anguish, a horrible sense of loss. He felt defeated.

"...maybe if I'm kind I'll send his girlfriend, little Sam, to join him, eh Plasmius? _They'll_ be gone, and _I'll_ be rich!"

Vlad suppressed a shudder, as his double handled the wrist band gingerly, funneling ecto energy into it. He still wanted to hold the boy. In a way, it felt like nothing else mattered just then.

Nathaniel was looking up at his double in the gloom, eyes wide, and his double tried to smile. He found that he couldn't, though he wanted to so badly. So badly. He wished he could whisper words of comfort too, for things _would_ be all right.

For the child, things would soon be wonderful again.

Spectra paused to tap the playpen again, unknowingly drawing Nathaniel's nervous eyes from inside. "And this _brat_. I'll obviously keep him alive for now, to use as bait. But why bother doing anything _more_ than that, when he'll be killed in a few years anyway?"

Spectra smiled wide, and pulled in another wave of outraged anger, tinged with a curious sense of anguish and loss. She grew stronger.

This meal was nearly over, though. "The boy will spend his life in this playpen. I'll feed him, and I'll keep him clean, because the stench would be intolerable. But that's all."

Vlad, who still stood only a few feet away, struggled to hold himself back. Then the thought occurred: why bother? He had no intention of working with this woman, for any amount of time. He might as well attack now.

Then several things happened nearly at once.

Spectra brought her hand to her heart to form a point there with two of her fingertips.

Nathaniel's wrist band broke, and the boy was instantly a ghost. Vlad's double picked him up, hugging him protectively.

And Bertrand, invisible and waiting for Spectra's signal, stabbed Vlad in the back.

Spectra's voice rang out just as he struck. "And you, Plasmius, won't be able to do anything about it!"

* * *

**Author's Note**: (Dodges rotten tomatoes.) Er, yeah, this time it really is a bit of a cliffhanger. Meep? You should know I wrote pages and pages of notes for this, wrote half a chapter, scrapped it completely, started again... Suffice to say, I've really nailed down the plot for the next chapter, though, so it should be up a LOT faster. :) Also, special thanks to Esme Phantom, for talking to me lots in the forum I set up here! She _really_ helped get me going on this! Give her a humongous cheer!! Thanks you Esme, and the others who posted too! (No joke!) I'll...get on there after this, meep. Respond to, cough, anybody I haven't responded to yet...

Please read and review! Puppy dog eyes! (Tis a weapon, you know.) OO

* * *


	25. The Ghost Zone Adventure Continues

**Previous Chapter:**

Then several things happened nearly at once.

Spectra brought her hand to her heart to form a point there with two of her fingertips.

Nathaniel's wrist band broke, and the boy was instantly a ghost. Vlad's double picked him up, hugging him protectively.

And Bertrand, invisible and waiting for Spectra's signal, stabbed Vlad in the back.

Spectra's voice rang out just as he struck. "And you, Plasmius, won't be able to do anything about it!"

* * *

**Chapter 25: More Adventures in the Ghost Zone**

Vlad reacted before the pain fully registered by instantly gathering up ecto energy in his good arm, and letting it off directly behind him with an explosive blast.

_Then_ he yelled as Bertrand was hurled backward, and whatever the ghost had stabbed him with was violently dislodged from his back. The pain, centered just above Vlad's right shoulder blade, overlapped in waves so intense it was all he could do to not curl into a ball of agony on the spot.

But his survival instincts had already kicked in and he kept moving instead, as adrenaline flooded his system.

Spectra was charging at him with ecto energy gathered in both hands, so Vlad lunged forward, meeting her halfway. He was much faster, and caught her in the face with a left back fist, deflecting the blast she got off with his good shoulder. She went flying backward to crash into the far wall.

Meanwhile Bertrand was already getting back up, leaving Vlad only a brief moment to gather his wits.

He took the time to merge back together with his double, who had already blasted his way out of the playpen, Nathaniel held close. When they merged, Vlad immediately felt the gaping wound in his chest shrink as the skin knitted back together. It was only a partial fix and he was still bleeding, but the damage was roughly cut in half, since he had split himself evenly earlier.

Now Vlad was left with a tiny boy in his arms, clinging to him fearfully. A powerful pang of empathy for Nathaniel swept through him suddenly, and for the first time, with a sense of shock, he realized just how emotionally unstable he was right now.

He had been snapped out of the worst of it, no doubt because of the intense pain. That ghost, that woman...what had she been _doing_ to him? She had piqued his emotions, led him down into a haze of dark thoughts with all the right words, as if...

_As if reading his mind._

Vlad didn't have to focus on the implications. He would flee now, and deal with this _later_, when he wasn't injured and juggling Nathaniel. He should still be able to out pace these two, injured or not...

Just as Vlad went invisible to make a quick escape, Spectra's voice screeched out.

"BERTRAND, the DOOR!" Bertrand's reaction was immediate, and unfortunately Vlad had thrown him close to the exit a moment ago. Vlad watched him press his back to the door, then disappear from sight as he too went invisible.

A fast, continuous stream of ecto blasts from Bertrand's direction started up immediately, seemingly randomly aimed. Vlad dodged one that came dangerously close, and switched Nathaniel entirely to his bad arm. The wound had damaged his right shoulder, so this was a definite strain, but Vlad needed his left arm for defense and attack. He rose toward the ceiling, approximately fifteen feet above.

This place was built into the middle of one of the Ghost Zone's many rocky islands, and thus was surrounded on all sides by meters upon meters of impenetrable rock. Vlad couldn't phase through it, so the only escape route available was the way he had come in. He needed to get through that door!

As Vlad reached the ceiling, he started to focus an invisible ecto blast. He couldn't punch his way through these walls, but he could break down that door, right along with the ghost blocking it.

Spectra yelled out again. "He's up toward the ceiling! He's going to attack!" Bertrand's ecto blasts shifted upward suddenly, and Vlad had to start dodging again.

Vlad's temper flared, and he changed targets to throw the ecto blast at Spectra instead, who was confirming his fears of mind reading with every word. At least Bertrand appeared unable to do so as well.

Vlad watched as Spectra reacted to the attack just in time, blocking it with an ecto shield. Her defense was far too weak, and she was knocked back into the far wall again.

Vlad, still invisible, lunged downward. He'd take her out first, then leave. She might be able to track him, which would be disastrous.

He saw the fear in Spectra's eyes an instant before she went invisible. He had gotten close enough to get one solid hit in, but then she slipped away. _Butter biscuits._ She had known he was coming, had read his intentions, even _where_ he was in the room, invisible or not...

Vlad leaped back upward suddenly, barely avoiding an ecto blast from nearby that came too close to be a coincidence. He lashed out with a kick to gain distance, and his foot caught a glancing blow to what felt like Spectra's shoulder.

_"Gehh." _Vlad felt his own shoulder tear, and it was all he could do to suppress a scream.

His grip on Nathaniel slipped slightly. The front of Nathaniel's tiny pajamas was soaking with his ecto blood. Vlad fought off a sudden wave of dizziness as the recognition of his blood loss hit him. He didn't have any time to waste.

Nathaniel started to cry. It was the gasping of a child who was afraid to make noise, but couldn't keep from crying any longer. His high pitched sobs, with gibberish words interspersed that sounded suspiciously like _Mommy_ and _home,_ made Vlad's heart clench, even as he feared that the noise would lead Bertrand and Spectra right to them.

That fear and pain gave him another adrenaline rush.

Vlad clenched Nathaniel to him with his bad arm, holding back another yell of pain, and used his left arm to bombard the exit with ecto blasts. He also raised a partial ecto shield, curved around his back and right side, to protect himself and Nathaniel from another attack from Spectra.

Sheer force was the only way out now. It was a race against his own body, however; a deadly test determining just how long he could push himself like this. For the moment, Bertrand's strength didn't match up, and Vlad quickly blasted his way through the door. The force of his attack took Bertrand by surprise, and after smashing through the door he became briefly visible again, flipping through the air, surrounded by debris, to land on his head and skid several feet along the floor. Vlad zoomed forward, keeping to the top of what was left of the doorway. He was back in the sitting room again, the true exit to this place only a few dozen feet away now.

Vlad put on a burst of speed just as a female scream erupted from behind, followed by an ecto blast that hit the back of his head, and Vlad, temporarily stunned, flipped forward and down, carried by the blast's force and his own momentum.

And Nathaniel was suddenly gone, out of his arms.

Vlad righted himself frantically and saw the boy ahead.

Nathaniel was visible, and _human_ again. He was falling toward the floor, carried by momentum, and his arms were still reaching for Vlad, who had effectively become intangible to him. His terrified eyes were filled with tears.

Shock ran through Vlad. _No, no, no..!_

There wasn't any time. Caution was thrown to the wind, and for the first time in years Vlad made a truly spontaneous decision.

He waited until the last possible instant, but there was no way Spectra, who was hot on his heels, could miss the distinctive black rings as they moved out from the center of Vlad's body just before he grabbed Nathaniel to him.

Then they fell through the floor together, and into total darkness.

* * *

Getting to the Ghost Zone had taken Danny minutes, but it had felt like a lifetime. Now he was streaking through it toward where he knew Spectra and Bertrand lived. An image of his older self was burned into the retina of his mind's eye, and a deep worry for Nathaniel was churning in his gut. Scenarios were playing out in his mind, each more horrible than the one before. Confusion twisted beneath it all, subtly camouflaging a growing sense of betrayal.

How could Jazz be that naive? That trusting? To actually _believe_ his future self...! There was something more there, something she'd been hiding, and Danny could only pray he'd have the luxury to find out later. When Spectra and his older self were mentioned in the same sentence he couldn't help fear that some complicated scheme had already been set in motion.

Sam's face was there too, burning in his mind's eye, the way she had looked before he left, so beautiful and happy, for the first time in a long time.

_Nathaniel, please, please be okay..._

Spectra's home appeared in the distance, and in another minute Danny was floating in front of a deep burgundy door, set into dark gray rock. The last time he'd been here had been when he was looking for Sam. It hadn't been pleasant. Spectra had pushed her limits with him, and for once he'd pushed right back, no holds barred. But now, if she had Nathaniel, if his older _self_ was here too...

Something here was wrong. His ghost sense had yet to go off.

Of course, this was the Ghost Zone, so his overall sensitivity was dulled by overexposure to the energy everywhere here. And Danny still carried the Box Ghost under his arm. The Box Ghost, for his part, had probably decided that getting carried around like an over sized football was better than getting kicked around like one, and was being very quiet for once.

Danny wasn't quite sure why he'd bothered to bring him along. Part of him did suspect, however, that there might be some vital thing the Box Ghost had neglected to mention. It would be just like him to forget the obvious, if it wasn't about something cubical or corrugated.

But that didn't matter right now. What _did_ matter was that his Ghost Sense _should_ have gone off again, if there was anyone behind that door, and it _hadn't_. He kicked the door in anyway, and as an afterthought he threw the Box Ghost inside to check things out. Danny was still a far cry from forgiving the guy for the level of stupidity he had displayed so far that night.

The Box Ghost obviously hadn't expected that. "WAAhh!!" There was a pregnant pause. "Beware!" Then the Box Ghost stuck his head back out. "Nobody home." They stared at each other for a moment, and Danny crossed his arms, trying to keep his growing desperation in check.

He had been expecting them to be here, waiting to ambush him, and he'd come anyway, knowing it was a trap. Then somehow he'd save the day anyway with sheer brute force and strength of will if nothing else. And he'd go home with Nathaniel...

How _stupid_! It sounded like something out of a freaking _comic_ book! Why should he assume they wanted to be found now, or at all? Danny didn't know what they had planned, or even who was truly involved. This could even be some demented master plan of _Vlad's_! He wanted Nathaniel, didn't he?

"Oh _crap_..." Danny put his hands to his head and tried to think.

He should have taken the Specter Speeder. It seemed _obvious_ now. He hadn't used it in years; it was always Jazz, Tucker, or Sam doing that part of things...but it had a Real World Item detector on board, which would be _perfect_ for finding Nathaniel right now!

He needed to go back. It would waste another ten minutes, but what _choice_ did he have?

Danny was about to take off when his ghost sense finally went off.

Someone was coming this way, fast. Danny went invisible instantly, and pulled the Box Ghost close. "_Shh_." It only took moments for Danny to recognize the stranger, as the ghost ate up the distance.

It was _him_. His future self. And he looked like he wanted a fight.

The older ghost stopped a good twenty yards away, caution temporarily overriding anger.

"Show yourself!" He was looking in Danny's direction, his own ghost sense having warned him that someone was there. His lips drew back in a silent snarl, and he came forward, a look of rage passing over his features. "I don't have _time_..."

"I'm _here_." Danny threw the Box Ghost behind him, and showed himself.

His older self drew back suddenly, eyes going briefly wide, and they locked eyes. Tension, almost visible, like ecto energy, rose between them.

Their last incredibly violent encounter hung over them, and the things Danny had been trying to deal with in the months since came back all at once. Electricity ran between them, like a lightning bolt on the cusp of manifestation.

Danny looked away, nostrils flaring as the familiar anger rose up in him. He wanted to pummel the bastard so _hard_...

His older self clearly noticed the look, and lowered his arms carefully in an attempt to look nonthreatening, though none of the tension left his body. He had better things to do than get beaten to a pulp right now, like finding Nathaniel.

"So you..."

"_What_ do you...!"

They both stopped. Then Danny's older self tried again. "I _don't_ want a fight. We _need_ to find Nathaniel. Where have you looked so far?"

Danny stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. The _nerve_...

His older self went on, obviously impatient. "Spectra has too many holes to hide in; I've been all over the Ghost Zone. That includes..."

"_What_. Are you _talking_ about?! Do you think I believe _anything_ you're saying? You want to _help_? Tell me where Nathaniel is!!" Danny tore forward, the urge to punch the living daylights out of his future self finally winning out.

His fists only met air; the other ghost had transported himself. An instant later Danny's arms were behind him, twisted into a hold that hurt like hell, his future self's voice in his ear. "Stop. It!! _Listen _to me..." They grappled with one another for a few moments, and Danny nearly broke away twice before his future self shoved one of his knees into the middle of Danny's back, increasing the lock on his arms to the breaking point.

"I'm _desperate_ right now, do you _understand_?!" Danny growled low, and twisted his head away from the voice yelling in his ear, but didn't try to break free again. Despite his better judgment, something in him wanted to listen.

"I don't _know_ where Nathaniel is. I want to _find_ him before Spectra does something _sick_ to him, or just..." His older self's voice dropped off unexpectedly, and Danny felt his stomach drop out as a dark fear swept through him. Nathaniel _couldn't_ be dead...

Suddenly the thought was much more _real_ than it had been a moment ago.

Danny was shoved forward unexpectedly, the grip on his wrists released. He turned instantly, hovering a few feet away from his older self, rubbing his arms gingerly, eyes narrowed. He'd pay for that later...

But somehow the anger from a moment ago had nearly died away. A slow, creeping fear gnawed at his stomach instead. Danny's eyes met his older self's again, and they both looked away instantly.

It was _mirrored_ there...

Danny _couldn't_ work with him. He couldn't _trust_ him! And he didn't have time to deal with this. But the thought crept up on him, hesitant, and with a sense of embarrassment; was there any way he could _really_ be worried for Nathaniel...?

Danny looked down, gritting his teeth, and clenched his fists in frustration. His voice came out, strangled and vicious. "Why can't you just _disappear_?"

His future self's expression mirrored his, though Danny didn't see.

After a moment his older self spoke. "Just tell me your plans_. _I don't want either of us wasting time. Please." Danny heard him sigh. "I've only got one other place to look, but it's about fifteen minutes from here. It's the last place I remember Spectra living; _naturally_ that would be where she was hiding away now- the last place I _look_." Danny felt the frustration rolling off him, too genuine to be faked.

Danny looked up, into his double's glowing red eyes. "I'm going to the Fenton Portal, to get the Specter Speeder. It can..."

"Detect 'real world items'!" His older self's hands flew to his head. "Of course, how _stupid_...how could I forget...?" He turned in a slow motion circle, gritting his teeth. Then he faced Danny again, focused and intense. "I'm going to check out this last location- it's across the Ghost Zone from the Fenton Portal, so it makes sense for us to split up. Either way, we'll be moving forward as fast as possible." He was already backing up again, and a nervous distrust twisted in Danny's gut. "Good lu..."

"_No_! I'm coming with you!" Danny leaped forward, only to stop abruptly as his future self screeched to a halt.

"No you're not. It doesn't make _sense_! Go get the Specter Sp...!"

They started talking over each other, both yelling.

"This is ridiculous! Like I could leave _you_ alone to get Nathaniel! What if he _was_ there...?"

"You idiot, use your _brain_, we don't have time to waste _debating_..."

"I, the _Box_ Ghost..." The Box Ghost was still floating nearby, having remained invisible up until now. They both stopped to stare at him.

He looked like he was regretting saying anything.

Danny flew forward a few feet. "_You_ go! Go get the Specter Speeder! In fact, you can meet the others and tell them what's going on! They're probably going to get there soon..." Danny hadn't thought of it before, but he knew he was right. The whole gang would be there: Jazz, Tucker, and Sam. How much time had passed since he'd left? Fifteen minutes at most? They'd be there any minute, probably...

"I can't believe..._fine_." Danny looked up to see his future self's deeply disgruntled face. His arms were crossed. His older self lunged forward suddenly, a dark look twisting his features, and latched onto the Box Ghost. He drew him back, like a football, and threw him as hard as he could. "Get..._going_ then!" Danny watched wide eyed, as his older self stared after the squat blue ghost spinning through the air. "You can go _faster_ than _that_!"

Then his future self turned around, shoulders hunched, and didn't bother with so much as a glance at Danny before taking off in the opposite direction. "Come _on_ already."

Danny glowered at him. "You don't have to tell _me_."

* * *

_What the devil is wrong with me? _

Vlad had given away the fact that he was a halfa. Spectra wasn't stupid, there was no way she wouldn't put two and two together...only _humans_ were intangible in the Ghost Zone after all!

And that aside, he was utterly _helpless_ right now! The more ghostly energy Vlad accessed, the more tangible he became. Even using invisibility would slow his and Nathaniel's descent through the ghostly rock, and if Vlad were to attempt flying, he would likely trap them there! Thus they were forced to float slowly along, until their momentum naturally carried them through to the underside of the island.

Well...at least that could explain his leap after Nathaniel. The boy might _well_ have gotten himself trapped, if left alone to go through the rock. All it would've taken was a few tries at "going ghost," as Daniel would put it.

Still, Vlad's decision to follow the boy, if anything, confirmed the true depth of his growing insanity! To give up such a secret, that Vlad Plasmius was a _halfa_...

And that witch of a woman, somehow reducing his usually clear, focused, logical self to a sentimental, easy to manipulate pile of mush in a matter of minutes..!

A cynical thought crossed Vlad's mind. Perhaps it was easier for her to do than he would care to admit. _Perhaps_ he had been weakening for years, ever since he'd first discovered another like himself: a halfa in the form of young _Daniel Fenton_.

Vlad closed his eyes, though the complete blackness made the change negligible, and took a careful breath, trying to purge his roiling emotions. Anger. Regret. Fear.

_Fudge buckets._

It didn't matter what his mind was spewing. He needed to focus, and work a way out of this mess.

Being stuck as a human was a problem, to put it lightly. The wound in his chest ached with every heartbeat, and though it was considerably smaller now, since this wasn't the form that had taken the attack, his human heart rate was much higher and thus pushed the blood out dangerously fast. Even now, his breaths were becoming shallow gasps. He could only hope this fall would end before his human body had time to go into complete shock.

And what would he do once outside again? Nathaniel would still be human.

Vlad could split his form. One copy could mostly transform, keeping only his hands in human form, and then grab onto Nathaniel and himself to fly them out of here as quickly as possible...

Vlad coughed suddenly, and tasted the metallic flavor of blood.

_Fudge...buckets. _ Had Bertrand's attack pierced his lung? Vlad's hands had a subtle tremor, and his vision would likely be slightly tunneled, if there were anything to see.

Vlad doubted he had the strength to split his form, if it meant staying even partially human. His ghostly body was extremely durable; his _human_ body, though exceptional by human standards, was not. Even in the best of circumstances, holding himself in the state between his ghost and human forms required continual, focused concentration.

And Spectra could sense him. How far did that ability reach? Could Vlad truly afford to invisibly slink away, when she and Bertrand might tail him back to his home? He was badly injured, but even so, in ghost form he could still deal out enough damage to keep them from follow...

Vlad's thought halted as a tiny hand reached fumblingly upward, feeling along the back of his neck. Then it found his ponytail and grabbed onto it, pulling lightly. A tiny voice sniffled in his ear.

Some of Vlad's tension drained away to be replaced with something more intense, and more...important.

Vlad slowly dropped his head until his left cheek brushed softly up against the top of Nathaniel's fuzzy head.

"It's all right little badger. You're safe." He spoke softly, and he hoped soothingly, though his voice was laced with pain. Vlad could only hold the boy with one arm, while the other, practically useless now, was held carefully still. The position was hardly comfortable for either of them, nor the pervasive smell of Vlad's blood.

Nathaniel tightened his grip ever so slightly, and sniffled again. Then he mumbled something quietly, and it took a second for Vlad to decipher the meaning.

_Mommy_. Vlad grimaced, a subtle ache welling up in him. All the months he had spent watching the child seemed to flash by in an instant.

The boy wanted Samantha, of course. Not him. Yet he had the audacity to feel disappointed, as though he ought to _mean_ something to boy.

No. He meant _nothing_ to the Nathaniel. And now, here of all places, Vlad was being forced to acknowledge his own ridiculous, predictable, yet somehow completely _unforeseen_ mistake.

He had become attached in all the wrong ways, and now...he couldn't keep the child. Oh, perhaps he _could. _But he wouldn't.

Vlad hugged Nathaniel closer, his scowl deepening into anger. _Damn_ his conscience!All the effort he had gone through over the past months, and now there was this ridiculous _situat_...

The surrounding darkness was unexpectedly replaced with the bright green backdrop of the Ghost Zone, causing Vlad's eyes to tear up. They were outside!

Spectra was in his face.

Vlad turned invisible almost instantly, but it was still too late. His momentum continued to carry him and Nathaniel slowly downward, away from the rocky island above them, and Spectra backed off, all too aware of where he was, invisible or not. Her eyes were wide with excitement.

For a long moment Vlad's mind froze up. He should have turned invisible sooner, and risked slowing their descent through the rock! _Surely_ it wouldn't have stopped them completely! And now this scum had seen his face as they emerged, had seen _Vlad Masters'_ face! In time, Spectra would surely figure out _exactly_ who he was in the human world, if she hadn't already _recognized_ him...!

Vlad's temper flared. They had badly injured him. They were intent on using Nathaniel as a tool for their sadistic revenge against Daniel. And if their plan became reality, they would keep Nathaniel in living conditions not fit for an animal for years, and then _kill_ the child...

And now Spectra had just _seen_ him, the _real_ him, effectively stripping away something dearly precious to him in an instant: his human identity.

It was terrifying, and humiliating. It also gave him an enormous adrenaline rush, boosting his power and overriding the pain.

They had seen Masters at his most vulnerable. _Now_ they would see Plasmius at his most vicious.

Vlad left Nathaniel. The boy was untouchable as a human, and no longer trapped in the underbelly of Spectra and Bertrand's rocky prison, after all. Vlad could leave him for a bit, then come back after the trash had been taken care of- and then he wouldn't have to worry about being followed. _This_ was the best choice.

Vlad had transformed and was in front of Spectra in an instant, his fist connecting with her jaw with a satisfying crack. She was caught off guard, obviously still mulling gleefully over the revelation of Vlad's human identity.

He wasn't going to give her that time. She might sense his intent, but she was slow, and here in the Ghost Zone she couldn't phase out to avoid him. She was easy prey. He advanced and caught her across the face twice more with a double back fist. He was still reduced to one arm, adrenaline rush or not.

Then Bertrand appeared, attacking, and Vlad barely jolted back in time to miss a vicious swipe to his abdomen with a knife.

No, not a knife! Bertrand had manipulated his hands until they were stretched out into long, thin, sharp utensils. There were no visible fingers, just one double edged dagger of sorts attached to each wrist. It was disgusting.

Vlad's fury peaked again, and he threw an ecto blast with his good arm at Bertrand's face, knocking him several dozen feet away. Vlad teleported to just behind Bertrand and hit him with another powerful ecto blast to the back of his head, which sent him flying forward in an uncontrolled spin.

Vlad raced along with him, and even as the other ghost attempted to twist away, Vlad landed a solid kick to his temple. He didn't wait for Bertrand to recover before kneeing him in small of his back. A strangled yelp finally escaped the ghost, and Vlad found himself smirking.

_I do believe that hurt._

Then Spectra came at him, broadcasting herself with a loud battle cry, and Vlad gave her a quick kick to the face, stopping her completely. He blasted her some distance away, before she had time to even register the kick, let alone react to it.

Vlad continued his attack on Bertrand, who was still reeling from the previous blows. Vlad clocked another solid kick to his temple, and then twisted to get him again with another kick on the other temple, knocking him back the way he had just come. It took a lot to knock a ghost cold, but Vlad was more than up to the job...

They had forgotten who he was, hadn't they? Even if Vlad _was_ out to protect Nathaniel, he was _not some fool's idea of a hero_. He protected his own, and when you literally knifed him in the back, you could expect _one_ thing:

Retribution!

So long as Vlad moved quickly, while the adrenaline was still on his side, these two didn't stand a _chance _against him.

Vlad threw another kick, this time at Bertrand's ribs, and the ghost managed an awkward block with his right arm at the last moment. There was a loud crack as the arm broke, and Vlad suppressed a grimace, backing off momentarily.

_Fool_.

Bertrand's arm would heal much more slowly than a few ribs, after all. But then, that wasn't Vlad's problem; it would even serve to take out the cretin faster. With that thought, Vlad advanced again, set to knock him cold no matter what this time.

"STOP! Or he GETS IT!" Vlad reared back, shock jolting through him at Spectra's shrill voice- and at what he _knew_ she meant. He turned quickly, and the fear was confirmed.

_Fudge buckets._

* * *

**Author's Note**: Bwaha...haha...ahahahahaaa! Okay, okay....I actually have the next chapter completely written. Not in the editing phase, not mulling it over...completely finished. So the next update will be fast, for once. :) Have a nice day.


	26. Cliffhanger Conclusion?

**Previous Chapter:**

Vlad threw another kick, this time at Bertrand's ribs, and the ghost managed an awkward block with his right arm at the last moment. There was a loud crack as the arm broke, and Vlad suppressed a grimace, backing off momentarily.

_Fool_.

Bertrand's arm would heal much more slowly than a few ribs, after all. But then, that wasn't Vlad's problem; it would even serve to take out the cretin faster. With that thought, Vlad advanced again, set to knock him cold no matter what this time.

"STOP! Or he GETS IT!" Vlad reared back, shock jolting through him at Spectra's shrill voice- and at what he _knew_ she meant. He turned quickly, and the fear was confirmed.

_Fudge buckets._

* * *

**Chapter 26: Cliffhanger Conclusion?  
**

Spectra had Nathaniel hugged to her chest with one arm, an ecto blast glowing in her free hand. She looked desperate enough to use it, with her hair loose and wild, and her left eye already swollen from the kick to the face she had taken earlier.

"Just don't _move_, don't go invisible. Nothing! You move and he _feels_ it, you understand?" Her voice was hoarse, strained. Vlad angled himself slightly, so that Bertrand stayed in his peripheral vision.

She squeezed Nathaniel, and Vlad stopped dead. "You don't move _at all_! No _twisting_, you snake. _Nothing_!"

The boy looked horrible, his pale blue face purple in the cheeks, tears running slowly down to drip off his chin. And he was staring at Vlad with a look: of fear, of need? Horror? _Change back, Nathaniel, please, she can't hold you if you're _human_, boy..._

Vlad should have kept with the boy, should have paid _closer attention_...

And now that he had stopped moving, he could feel the fatigue, the pain, starting to return.

A blow from Bertrand landed on his right temple, knocking his head sideways, and Vlad rolled with it as best he could. He watched, through a slight haze, as Spectra's desperate grimace twisted into a partial grin.

"I said _don't move_." Her eyes narrowed maliciously. "Don't make another _mistake_..." Her nostrils flared in excitement as Bertrand came at him again, recovered enough, obviously, for a little revenge.

This time it was a kick to his injured shoulder. Vlad couldn't stop himself, and doubled over from the pain, hovering in place as blood started flowing from the wound again. He heard Bertrand snickering softly nearby, through a ringing in his ears.

_I can't take another hit like that. _He didn't want to risk Nathaniel...but...

The boy was crying audibly now, but softly like before; a painful, keening sound that was piercing Vlad's head.

"Finish him, Bertrand."

Vlad turned to see Bertrand's knife hands extend, saw them driving toward his heart as if in slow motion.

He transformed.

There was only an instant to spare, as the black rings moved outward, once again showing everyone his more vulnerable, yet ironically untouchable human self.

As he changed, Vlad's eyes were drawn to Nathaniel. Did he understand, would he _realize_ how to _save_ himself_...would he, Vlad, be able to get over to him in time..._

It felt like an eternity, as Spectra's face began to twist in anger, as her arm began to tighten again...

and then Nathaniel changed.

As he fell through Spectra's grip, slowly tumbling forward, his wide eyes never left Vlad's, and his arms opened wide, reaching out for him.

The boy was _reaching_ for _him_. Emotions Vlad hadn't felt in years crowded up, threatening to overwhelm him: the need to comfort and protect, to reach back, _damn_ the consequences, and hug the child close and never let go...

Then Spectra lunged forward, falling through Nathaniel, her arms grasping at nothing; a brainless move fueled by desperation and fury.

And Vlad acted on it.

There was no holding back, no calculation, and no warning signal for Spectra to catch. He transformed as he attacked. The protectiveness, the love that Vlad felt was suddenly funneled into a single adrenaline fueled punch.

He caught Spectra on her right temple. The impact knocked her cold instantly, the rage in her face switching off like a light. Her head twisted around as far as it would go, the rest of her body following as if in slow motion.

Vlad turned as Spectra was still spiraling away from him, suddenly aware that Bertrand was about to attack. For the first time in his life, he somehow _felt_ just where the ghost was coming from, and let out an ecto blast a good twenty times stronger than anything he had done in years. Bertrand was blown away.

Not permanently, Vlad knew. But it was good enough for now, for both of them. And when they woke up quite some time later, Vlad, with some satisfaction, knew it would _hurt_. He turned around, and floated slowly over to Nathaniel.

Vlad felt like hell. His body was completely drained, and his entire right side was throbbing, going from white hot to a dull ache with every excruciatingly slow heart beat. Where Bertrand had hit him a minute ago his face was numb, and Vlad doubted he could muster up another ecto blast. He probably couldn't manage to warm up a cup of _tea_. He didn't even want to _think_ about the current state of his right shoulder and arm.

Yet Vlad couldn't stop the grin, as he gazed at the child in front of him. He saw admiration in the tiny smile lighting up Nathaniel's face, and two tiny arms, still reaching for him. Vlad transformed again, as foolhardy as it likely was, to carefully pull the boy close.

Nathaniel's left arm accidentally skimmed the injury in his shoulder, and Vlad let out a hiss of pain. He heard Nathaniel gasp quietly, and the boy put his hand carefully on Vlad's head, softly patting his hair.

"Oh no _eh_bow..." Nathaniel spoke quietly, his tiny voice clear and surprisingly understandable. _Oh no...elbow?_

Vlad grinned again. Close enough. "_Smart_ boy." The grin softened. "It'll be alright Nathaniel, I'll be alright. You made...U-uncle Vlad very proud." He had grown to hate the term, as it had been used by Daniel in the ugliest way, but couldn't think of anything else.

That didn't matter right now though, as the tiny boy he held continued to pat his head carefully, even protectively. Nathaniel could see he was hurting, even if he was supposedly "alright." In truth, Vlad was slowly bleeding to death in this form, and he couldn't afford to stay human any longer.

Vlad pulled Nathaniel back slightly in order to look him in the eyes.

It took an incredible effort to speak calmly, and a tremor still laced his voice. "Do you want to go home, my boy? You have to change back again. Can you do that? Change back to a _ghost_, Nathaniel..." Vlad shifted forms. His stomach twisted at the look of fear in Nathaniel's eyes when his grip melted away. Vlad tensed as the moment stretched. This _needed_ to work.

Then Nathaniel transformed as well, and Vlad felt ridiculously triumphant. He pulled the boy to him again, and Nathaniel broke into a wide smile. Pride soared through Vlad, and the goofy grin he couldn't control returned.

"_Good_ _boy_!" He nearly chuckled, but caught himself in time.

Chuckling would _not_ feel good right now.

Vlad turned slightly, and flew at a slow but steady pace toward the Fenton portal.

* * *

"_Damn_ it! There was something there just a _second_ ago..." Tucker stared hard at the Specter Speeder's virtual map of the Ghost Zone. It was conspicuously absent of real world items.

"Where!" Sam was driving, with Jazz sandwiched in between them. They had just left the Fenton Portal.

"I didn't really _see_ where, it disappeared almost as soon as the map came _up_..."

They were all silent for a moment. There was no point in going further into the Ghost Zone without a clear destination in mind, but to just _sit_ there was unthinkable.

Sam hit the accelerator. Jazz and Tucker exchanged a surreptitious glance. Sam had gone into commando mode, which in many ways was only a small step away from pure panic mode.

Jazz spoke up tentatively. "Sam...?"

Sam answered through tight lips. "The _Box_ Ghost. Up ahead." Jazz and Tucker looked up, and a little hope injected itself back into the previously darkening mood.

"Maybe he can _tell_ us something..." Jazz spoke as she twisted around to rummage through the pile of equipment behind her, then drew out the Fenton Fisher. She handed it to Tucker. "Here."

He opened the window as they drew near. "Hey Box Ghost!" The Box Ghost floated up hesitantly, and Tucker sent the Fisher whizzing out to wrap snugly around his waist. The Box Ghost looked surprisingly resigned to his fate, and only gave them a slightly grumpy look as he was reeled to the window.

Tucker ignored it. "So what's going _on_? Where's Danny?"

The Box Ghost was coherent for once. "He...is searching for Spectra, with the other ghost known as Dan." He added, at the shocked look on their faces, "Phantom and the other ghost do _not..._get along..."

No one had forgotten the fight in Idaho last winter, when, for _days_, their only clue about the outcome had been a note from Danny saying he'd _taken care_ of Dan...

"It's...it'll be okay..." Jazz sounded more worried than convinced.

Sam's posture hardened into a sitting crouch, her face a mask of anger and fear. She growled, interrupting Jazz. "_Nothing_ is _okay_ until I have Nathaniel back in my _arms_!" She sat quivering for a moment. Even the Box Ghost knew to keep quiet.

Sam bit her lip, staring hard at the steering wheel as she struggled to stave off tears once again. After a long moment she sighed, and forced herself to take a deep breath. "Jazz...you're right." _And if it's not okay I'll have to _kill_ them both, starting with Danny!_

She turned to glare at the Box Ghost. "Do you know where they are right now?" There was a pause, during which the Box Ghost grew more frightened as Sam grew more angry. "The _general direction_?!"

He pointed, and Sam hit the accelerator again. If Spectra really _did_ have Nathaniel, they would need Danny to punch her freaking _lights_ out for them.

A few minutes later a real world item started flashing on and off on the Specter Speeder's view screen, giving them a definite lead, and they shifted direction to follow it.

* * *

Spectra's place was deserted. And now they were even _further_ away from the Fenton Portal. Danny floated silently, staring at his left hand as he clenched it into a fist, over and over. Every time he did, he turned his hand briefly human, then back again.

It was a beacon, for Sam and the others. He should have thought of it sooner.

"Are you listening? I said I'm going to Clockwork." His future self floated nearby, waiting for an answer.

Danny turned further away. There was a silent, deeply awkward moment, as the past rose between them again. Images flashed behind Danny's eyes, unbidden, of their fight, of his future self's proclamations, which resulted in Danny very nearly killing him, then the hellish flight to Clockwork's lair to find the _truth..._

_A_nd there Clockwork had been, waiting for him, after Danny had searched _fruitlessly_ months before...

Danny almost wished the rage he'd felt toward his older self before would surface again, but there was only dread. That, and the growing desperation as time stretched on after Nathaniel's kidnapping, with _still_ no results, no leads, _nothing_...

"He'll help us. He'll know what to do." His future self's voice had a gentle, pleading quality to it that made Danny's throat clench. He heard him sigh. "I'm not waiting around. Do what you want."

Danny started in surprise as his future self took off. An instant passed, then Danny whipped around to stare after his retreating form, panic coursing through him. He couldn't just let him _leave_!

But he wouldn't go to _Clockwork_, he _couldn't_...

"_Wait_!" It came out as a strangled squawk. His older self paused in the distance, and turned around questioningly. Danny found himself moving, picking up speed as he went, his face a mask of tension.

They were face to face a moment later, Danny grasping for words, for a way out. "He...you can't _trust_ him, he's only there when you don't _need_ him..." Had he lost his mind? It was like his brain was disconnected from his mouth, and he was saying things to this monster, as if he _cared_, as if he would _understand_...

"He's manipulative like Vlad except, what _Vlad_ does is like...like child's play compared to him! He is _not_ our..." _Our friend._ Danny stopped, throat working.

This person wasn't his friend either. As Danny stared at his older self, loathing swept through him as he was struck, once again, by their physical similarity. He _hated_ that. If you just changed his coloring, and the flaming hair...

His older self stared back, eyes slightly wide. "I know he's not...our friend. He's our _guardian_. He's charged with watching ov..."

"Shut up." Danny whispered it. He looked down, fists clenched hard, emotions twisting his mouth into angry, harsh shapes.

_Nathaniel was somewhere out there, probably scared to death, maybe hurt! There was no _time_ for this! But going to Clockwork of all people, with _him_..._

His older self broke into his thoughts, speaking quietly, but intensely. "Nathaniel is somewhere out there, probably scared, and _maybe_ hurt! We don't have _time_..."

"Just SHUT UP!" Danny screamed it. His older self's words burned in his mind.

A moment passed as they stared at each other, his older self frowning, intensely worried for Nathaniel, and _unwilling_ to wait on him any longer...

Danny turned around, and swiped an arm surreptitiously across his eyes. "Let's go." His voice came out raw and low. His older self didn't comment.

They headed off again.

"The signal..."

Danny started transforming his hand back and forth again, too panicked to argue.

* * *

Sam hit the steering wheel with both fists. The signal had been in a different direction than the Box Ghost had taken them, so she had _hoped_...

"It was Danny after all..." Tucker looked up from the map of the Ghost Zone to see Danny and...yes, his future self, in the distance.

The three of them had never been so disappointed to see Danny before.

"Then we have _nothing_ again..." Sam's voice broke, and she stopped trying to speak. Jazz put a hand on her back, rubbing softly up and down, while Sam sniffled quietly for a moment, head bent over. Then she sat up straight, and rubbed her fingers carefully over her eyes, trying to keep the makeup she wore from running too noticeably. Danny did _not_ need to see how upset she was.

Danny was getting closer. He looked more stressed than they had ever seen him, eyes wide, shoulders hunched with tension, and his mouth drawn down in a jagged frown. Dan seemed contained, though stress emanated from him as well.

Jazz tried not to stare, but seeing them together was undeniably surreal. She hadn't seen Dan for several years, back when he had been trying to kill them all...

Sam rolled down her window as Danny came over to it. He leaned over and transformed, surprising them a little. He held himself up by draping his arms inside the window, head bent down so that his chin nearly touched the frame.

"We haven't found him yet." His voice was quiet and lost sounding.

Sam ruffled his hair softly. "It's...not your fault. We'll keep looking." Danny looked up slowly, blue eyes flashing in the strange light.

He looked so guilty. "I'm s..."

"Don't you _dare_ say you're _sorry_." Sam stared down at him, for once at a height advantage, her eyes glaring daggers for an instant. Then she forced a smile. "We _will_ find him, okay?"

Danny smiled softly, and swallowed, a little confidence, and color, returning to his face. "Of course." He straightened up, and pushed away, going ghost. Then he floated back to stick his head slightly in the window again. "What does the map say? Any real world items?"

Sam shook her head. "None besides you, Danny." There was a pause.

A voice, Danny's voice, spoke from the other window. "We should...go see Clockwork."

Dan was floating near a panicky Box Ghost just outside. Tucker, who still sat by the window, jumped slightly. Dan glanced at everyone, but avoided their eyes.

Sam could feel the tension suddenly radiating off Danny, and looked back to see his face. He looked terrified.

Jazz responded first. "That's a _great_ idea! Why didn't we think of that _sooner_? Sam? Let's go!" Sam pulled herself away from Danny's stark face, and turned to look at Jazz.

Instead she caught _his_ eye. They both looked away instantly. Sam quickly caught Jazz's eye, as a blush threatened to make its way up to her cheeks. He had _noticed_ her...how she was dressed.

"R-right. If no one has any objections..." She turned the Specter Speeder around, the ghosts tailing it, and started off toward the destination marked 'Clockwork.'

Surely Clockwork could help. Danny...Danny's older self was right.

* * *

Vlad had just caught sight of the portal when it happened: a ghost caught him by surprise, some random, shapeless bit of ectoplasm. It wouldn't even be capable of holding a corporeal form in the real world. But it zipped by fast, making a pathetic wooohing noise as it went.

It was enough to scare Nathaniel, and the boy had learned only one method for protecting himself. He transformed, and fell through Vlad's intangible grip.

It was hard to face, but Vlad simply couldn't afford to transform into a human. Even in his ghost form, shock was threatening to set in. As it was it would take all his will power just to get back home.

That left talk.

"Come on Nathaniel, Uncle Vlad can't take you home like this..." He passed his good arm slowly through the child to demonstrate.

Nathaniel looked surprisingly calm now that the ghost was gone. His eyes widened at the strange feeling as Vlad's arm passed through his midriff, and then he smiled.

But he made no effort to change back. He seemed content to just float there and watch Vlad watching him. Vlad forced a smile, and took a slow, careful breath. The very fact that breathing helped to calm him substantially while in ghost form was disturbing in and of itself. For a ghost, breathing was a true last resort, only necessary under extreme physical duress.

"Little badger, surely you don't want to stay out here all night..." He passed a hand through Nathaniel again. He giggled.

_Right_.

This was a desperate situation. It called for desperate measures. He cupped his left hand, and brought it to his face as though looking at something fascinating. Nathaniel watched, seemingly enjoying his every movement. Vlad brought the hand out, still closed, and held it in front of Nathaniel.

"I've got something in my hand, Nathaniel! What _is_ it? It's a surprise! But you have to change back, or Uncle Vlad can't show it to you!"

Nathaniel looked down at Vlad's hand, and as Vlad had hoped, tried to reach out and touch it. His tiny hand passed right through.

Nathaniel looked up, eyes wide. "No?" The boy frowned slightly, and passed his hand through again, as though to confirm. Then he seemed to lose interest, and focused back up at Vlad again instead.

Vlad was at a loss. He could hardly stay like this forever. What now? He stared down at the tiny face, with those bright blue eyes. Nathaniel still smiled up at him, seemingly content.

Vlad gave up the act. His shoulders drooped slightly, and his left hand went to his right shoulder, carefully feeling where the blood was still seeping through very slowly. He stared at the child, willing him to understand.

"Nathaniel. _Please_." The child's eyes widened slightly, his head tilting a little, and the smile faltered. "Uncle Vlad is hurt. _Please_ change over. Go..." Vlad swallowed. Would he recognize the term? "Go _ghost_."

The boy immediately transformed, and floated close.

Vlad was amazed. Nathaniel had just flown to him. He'd never seen the boy _do_ that before. And it had been natural, like walking!

Except the boy couldn't do that very well yet at all. _There_ was a thought.

Nathaniel's little hands reached forward to lightly touch Vlad's left hand where it pressed against his wound.

"Boo-boo..." His tiny voice sounded worried, and his tiny face was scrunched up slightly.

Vlad pulled Nathaniel to him and continued on, trying to ignore the much stronger pull on his not so impervious heart strings as the boy's hand found his pony tail again.

* * *

"Real world item!" Tucker noted it instantly this time. "Turn right about twenty degrees Sam, and we should be there in just a couple of minutes!"

No one said anything about changing course. If there was a lead, it automatically superseded going to Clockwork for help.

Sam revved the engine, pushing the Specter Speeder just a little bit harder. Her heart was already racing again with hope and fear, another extreme in a series of extremes.

No one said anything when the real world item winked out a minute later. If it really was Nathaniel, he could be transforming back and forth, after all.

"It's weird, this is heading right back to the Fenton Portal..." Tucker spoke quietly as they sped on. In fact, it would probably be coming into view any moment now...

Everyone stared as Danny's older self took off like a shot, out pacing them easily. Danny followed an instant later. They all squinted ahead trying to see what he had seen...

Jazz and Tucker spoke at the same time.

"Is that..._Vlad_?"

"That's Vlad!"

They all exchanged glances. Anxiety enveloped Sam like a blanket, her heart skipping a beat.

What was Vlad _doing_ here?

* * *

Danny closed in on Vlad, eyes widening in fear and anger as he noticed the open wound in his back, and the careful way he held his right arm. What the _hell_...?

Vlad pivoted to face him, having noticed his arrival, and Danny realized with a shock that Nathaniel was nestled in the crook of his good arm, a smile on his face.

Vlad had _found Nathaniel_. Part of Danny wanted to hug Vlad, as relief and fear poured off him in waves. But the other part wanted to punch him, or more precisely whoever had _done_ this to him...

He settled for stopping to hover near by. "You..._fudge_ buckets!" He'd been living with Vlad too long.

Vlad grimaced. "Aptly put."

"You're _covered_..." Vlad looked like a particularly gruesome Halloween costume.

"Indeed. Here. Take...the boy..." Danny quickly came closer to take Nathaniel in his arms. He moved carefully, not wanting to jostle him or Vlad.

The questions crowding in his head dropped away, as the child stared up at him, wide eyed.

Danny had never held his son before. He ran a hand carefully through the boy's hair. It was white like his, and just as wiry, too, back when he had still been a halfa...

Nathaniel made a worried noise.

"It's all right Little Badger..." Vlad's voice was weak. Danny glanced over to him sharply, as he was brought back down to earth. Vlad looked about ready to faint.

"_Nathaniel_." They both turned to see Danny's younger self come to a stop nearby. His eyes, wide with shock, went back and forth between them. "Vlad. What _happened_?" It sounded like an accusation.

Vlad stared back at him, looking tired and strained. "I'd love to explain, truly, but at the moment..."

"NATHANIEL!" Everyone twisted to look as the Specter Speeder came to a mad halt nearby. Sam's head was sticking out of the driver's seat window, tears streaming down her face.

Danny moved toward her without thinking, the child in his arms already tearing up over his distraught mother.

His younger self was suddenly in his face, arms on Nathaniel. Danny swallowed, ignoring the urge to resist, and handed his son over instead.

Nathaniel's face lit up immediately in recognition, and he grabbed onto his younger self tightly, sniffling.

"Dan Dan." A subtle dismay rose in Danny, as he watched his younger self move his hands over the boy, cooing and stroking, looking for injuries.

Danny's arms suddenly felt very empty.

His younger self called out to Vlad again. "Is he hurt?"

Vlad frowned slightly. "I don't believe so."

Then his younger self turned and flew Nathaniel over to the Specter Speeder. Danny wanted to follow, but turned to Vlad instead, his ears straining to listen as Sam cried and cooed over their son.

"Vlad. You look like hell."

"You would know, Daniel." Danny flew closer, and looked over the older ghost carefully. His chest and back were soaked in ectoplasm, and judging from that gash in his chest, it all belonged to him.

"Who _did_ this?"

Vlad grimaced. "Bertrand."

"And here I thought you knew how to fight."

"Ahaha. Funny." Danny stared at him.

"Come here. You look like you're about to pass out." He got his right shoulder under Vlad's left, pulling Vlad's left arm around his shoulders. He could do the flying for both of them until they were back home.

"You should see my human form." Danny's eyes widened, and the fear he'd felt upon first seeing Vlad returned in full force. Something in Vlad's eyes worried him.

"You..."

A grimace crossed Vlad's features. "Later, Daniel."

Danny frowned darkly. There might not be _time_ for a later, depending on how bad Vlad's injuries really were. They needed to leave. He stubbornly tuned out the sounds coming from the Specter Speeder, face grim, and turned to go.

_Goodbye Nathaniel. _"It's time to get back..."

"Not..._quite_ yet. It's terribly rude to leave unannounced." Danny paused. He _really_ wanted to go over there, and Vlad was asking...

He responded quietly, a smile tugging at his lips. "You'd better not die on me, old man." Vlad huffed, and Danny turned toward the Specter Speeder. They stopped to hover several feet away, watching silently as Sam cuddled Nathaniel close.

Danny realized with a start that his son was human again. And his younger self, who he had somehow overlooked completely a moment ago, had changed back as well, and had his arms drooped into window to hold himself up.

Now that Danny was looking, he couldn't miss the full suit and dress shoes his younger self wore, or the cologne, for that matter. And earlier...earlier he had noticed that Sam, even emotionally distraught as she was, was looking beautiful in a dark evening dress.

They had been on a date.

Danny was about to turn away, goodbye forgotten, when Sam looked up and their eyes met again. He managed to hold her gaze for a brief moment this time, before dropping his eyes, throat tight.

Vlad broke the silence, adopting a surprisingly energetic and completely insincere tone. Danny, who could feel Vlad trembling slightly, knew what an effort it was.

"Well, well, well...the child has been rescued and _peace_ has been returned. Oh happy day! I wouldn't bother looking for Nathaniel's things, however; they've been destroyed. Rest _assured_ that I will send replacements soon." Vlad smiled, showing too many teeth. "Now, I'd _love_ to stay and chat, but I've got the worst _back_ache at the moment. Ta everyo..."

Sam interrupted, piercing Vlad with a searching stare. "Nathaniel's covered in blood, Vlad. _Red_ blood." Not ectoplasm.

"Yes, well." Vlad eyed her right back, eyes hooded. "Please forgive the mess, _so_ sorry..."

Sam didn't respond. She seemed to be struggling with words, and Vlad didn't seem interested in helping her. The others watched, as though it wasn't their place to speak. Even Danny's younger self was quiet.

"As I was saying, then. Goodbye, Samantha, everyone." Vlad nodded to them, then caught Danny's eye. He started to turn to leave.

"Wait." Sam's voice was clear, and insistent. They waited.

She caught Vlad's eyes again, and held them.

"Vlad...thank you." Sam's eyes flicked toward Danny for an instant. "Both of you." She smiled. It was tiny, and full of the pain of her near loss, but it was sweet and sincere as well.

Danny finally turned away to carry Vlad back home.

Jazz stared after them, questions buzzing in her mind. Perhaps, though, there was someone who could answer them...

* * *

**Author's Note**: It's very late at night. Yeess. Ahaha! That last sentence is so cliche, but I couldn't resist! And when I said I was done editing this chapter, that was a lie. I went back and edited more! Bad me! (My beta-reader person is partly to thank...I gave her a copy to read...) In other news I attended a wedding this weekend of a fellow Danny Phantom writer. It's a small world, huh? :D Good night everybody! Hugs and kisses. ^___^


	27. Struggle

Previously:

_ Sam interrupted, piercing Vlad with a searching stare. "Nathaniel's covered in blood, Vlad. __Red blood." Not ectoplasm._

_ "Yes, well." Vlad eyed her right back, eyes hooded. "Please forgive the mess, __so sorry..."_

_ Sam didn't respond. She seemed to be struggling with words, and Vlad didn't seem interested in helping her. The others watched, as though it wasn't their place to speak. Even Danny's younger self was quiet._

_ "As I was saying, then. Goodbye, Samantha, everyone." Vlad nodded to them, then caught Danny's eye. He started to turn to leave._

_ "Wait." Sam's voice was clear, and insistent. They waited._

_ She caught Vlad's eyes again, and held them._

_ "Vlad...thank you." Sam's eyes flicked toward Danny for an instant. "Both of you." She smiled. It was tiny, and full of the pain of her near loss, but it was sweet and sincere as well._

_ Danny finally turned away to carry Vlad back home._

* * *

**Chatper Twenty-Seven: Struggle**

_Slap_.

"Come on Vlad, _concentrate_..." Danny pulled Vlad into a more upright position, hoping it would help him stay awake, and thus maintain his ghost form. All he got in response was a quiet, pained sounding exhalation.

_I can't believe this is happening._

Of all the people who mattered to Danny, Vlad was _not_ supposed to be the one who needed taking care of. He was self sufficient, in control _always_, and had a back-up plan or three waiting if things fell apart.

Yet things were falling apart now, with every ticking second. Danny sat against a wall in Vlad's laboratory, holding the older ghost in his lap like an overgrown child, waiting for help. After parting company with Sam and the others, Vlad had given Danny a number to call: Doctor Schueller, the same person who had fixed Danny up after the fight with his younger self some months ago. Danny had used a phone off of Vlad's multi-tool belt to reach him.

Then he had rushed to get Vlad back to the lab, as the older ghost's condition began to deteriorate rapidly. Even now, he was only partially maintaining his ghost form; his hair was human, his eyes a pale blue. Vlad was slipping fast.

Even the pressure Danny had felt when trapped in the Fenton thermos didn't compare to the stress he felt now, as he was forced to do nothing but wait for the ghost doctor to arrive through the portal.

It was ironic on some level, to be quietly sitting with Vlad there in the lab. Surely Vlad could see that Danny must have gone searching for Nathaniel after seeing the clip of the Box Ghost he had left open earlier, which meant that he knew all about Vlad's spying. The video clip was still repeating even now.

That really didn't matter any more.

"Vlad..._Vlad_!" Danny jolted in surprise when the black rings signaling Vlad's transformation appeared. Another energy drop! Vlad's cape and gloves were gone, and his skin, though blue, lacked that subtle glow every ghost had.

"Hey, wake up...!" Vlad was barely conscious. He grimaced as Danny lightly slapped him a few more times.

"_Dan...iel..._" His words degraded into a nearly inaudible groan. Then his body went limp, as the black rings briefly appeared again. They didn't completely follow the length of his body, blinking out early. There wasn't enough energy left even for that.

Vlad had fainted, and now Danny was left holding a human with a deep, bloody wound in his chest. As he watched, it began bleeding out again, whatever stasis Vlad's ghost form had provided having completely evaporated.

"Vlad! _Vlad_! Damn it, wake _up_!!" Danny stared for a long moment, as panic coursed through him. "_God_..." He set Vlad down, quickly tore off his own cape, and started wrapping it around Vlad's chest. He had to slow down that bleeding...

A cold shudder ran through Danny, and he stared up at the portal, suddenly mad with hope. A slightly plump, petite, older man was hovering there, a briefcase in one hand. Danny leaped up.

"Doctor Schueller!"

"What is _this_?" He had a German accent. And he was looking at Vlad, flabbergasted.

"It's your patient!"

"No it is not!" Now he looked mildly angry, and worried.

Danny stared, about to completely lose his temper. He floated closer, eyes wide. "That is _Vlad_..." Then he got it. "He's a halfa! Half ghost, half human! Do you understand?"

Schueller's eyes went wide. Then he dragged his gaze away from Vlad, grimacing hard. "I'm...not _prepared_ for this. I did not _know_..." He flew over to Vlad, looking at him more closely. "He _must_ maintain his ghost form, or the human form will certainly die..."

"Right..." Danny stared, panic flaring up again. Did this man even know how to _treat_ humans?

Then the doctor changed modes, and called on the professional training Vlad had no doubt hired him for. He barked orders at Danny. Vlad was quickly flown upstairs to a bedroom, and soon Danny found himself standing by the doorway, watching as Schueller advanced on Vlad's form, a round, flat, device held in either hand.

Danny heard Schueller mutter something in German as he brought the metallic devices down on Vlad's chest. Then energy gathered briefly in the room, and _zap_! Vlad's body bounced, and the smell of sizzling blood was permeating the room.

_He's using a defibrillator...!_

"_Damn _it_..._" There was another zap as Danny, horrified, started forward to stop the doctor. How was _this_...?

Then Vlad transformed. He was still unconscious, but Schueller had somehow triggered...

There was another zap, and this time Vlad gave a brief blood curdling yell as his body was yanked up again. Danny's hands were on his head, fingernails digging into his scalp as he turned to Schueller. It was that, or Schueller's neck.

"What...!"

"Shut up, please!" Schueller had a sheen of sweat covering his face. He set down the defibrillator-like device. "Hold him up for a moment!"

Danny was panicked, confused, and completely suspicious of this ghost, but he also couldn't fix Vlad. This man had a chance. He pulled Vlad up by the shoulders.

Schueller, using a pair of scissors, quickly snipped Vlad's lab shirt off of him, carefully pulling it away from the wound in his back and chest as he went, then threw it and his cape into a corner. He pocketed the scissors. Then Schueller, with a look of concentration, held his hands up, palms facing each other a few inches apart, and quickly formed a thin, deep red disk of ecto energy between them. He grabbed it and drew it out, shaping it as though it were noodle dough, quickly stretching it out and folding it over itself several times. Then he pulled it taught once more, and placed it over the wound in Vlad's back. He let go after a moment and it stayed in place.

"Lay him back down please." Schueller began making another red energy patch, because that was what it was. He looked up, catching Danny's eye briefly as he worked. "Are you related?"

Danny only paused at the question for an instant. He _was_ related, albeit in a very twisted way. "Yes." His eyes were riveted on Vlad's limp form, nearly covered now in green ectoplasm, with a few drops of red human blood mixed in.

"Good." There was a pause while Schueller applied the second bandage to Vlad's chest. "Use your hands to focus energy _here_ and..."

Then the black rings suddenly appeared, and Vlad was human again.

Schueller moved instantly, and Danny backed off, trying not to lose it completely. How was Vlad going to survive, if they had to use that _thing_ on him every few minutes? How could the doctor get anything _done_?

It took one zap, and one scream, and Vlad was a ghost again. Danny swore he was smoking slightly.

Schueller was on Danny immediately, grabbing his hands and placing them on Vlad's chest. "Energy, _now_, or he will transform again." Danny nodded, the look of fear in Schueller's eyes chilling him. Danny was right; they _couldn't_ afford to use the defibrillator again.

Schueller spoke quickly. "Keep it _soft_. Let the energy sink into him naturally." Danny tried to do as he was asked. A dull red glow began to emanate from his palms, and Vlad's eyes opened briefly as he heaved up, yelling out. Danny pulled back instantly.

"Too strong! It should be _green_! Think healing! Quickly please, try again..." A drop of sweat rolled down Schueller's brow. Danny read the desperation there. Schueller was holding the defibrillator up again, ready to move if Vlad transformed.

The situation was a nightmare.

Danny tried again. _Please, if anybody's up there, let this work...__**please**__ let this work..._

Vlad's eyes opened for an instant and he made a harsh guttural noise. Danny flinched back again, using even less energy. _Please, please, __**please**__..._

"Calm, you have to be _calm_..." The doctor's voice had gone soft, soothing. And there was a glimmer of hope there too. Danny focused even harder, his desperation receding slightly.

_Take my energy, Vlad, please let me help you...let me help..._

And the glow slowly shifted to a subtle, pale green. Danny had never seen this kind of ecto energy before, hadn't known he could _produce_ this. Vlad's body slowly relaxed.

For several minutes they both stood, as Danny focused on controlling and maintaining the new, strange energy flow. It slowly grew less alien to him, and the subtle, soft energy stabilized into a steady flow. Finally, Dr. Schueller put the defibrillator down again.

"_Good_." Schueller's relief was almost tangible, something you could pull out of the air surrounding him. "Whatever you do, you must not stop." He went over to the bedside table where his briefcase was, and started preparing something just out of Danny's peripheral vision.

Schueller spoke with his back turned. "You will be giving him a transfusion. You will be able to maintain the energy while I do this? Or no?"

Danny frowned, speaking carefully as he remained focused on his hands. "That...shouldn't be a problem. But doesn't he need stitches first?"

"I will deal with that first, yes."

Danny didn't respond, focusing instead on the energy flow. A minute passed as the doctor continued doing whatever he was doing. Then something else occurred to Danny.

"Don't we need to have the same blood type?"

"No, it doesn't work like that. It has to do with energy. If you were not compatible, however, you would not be able to share with him as you are doing now." There was a pause, and a shuffling noise. "That is why I asked if you were related. It is not always necessary to be family, but the likelihood is much better..." He drifted off, focusing back on whatever he was doing.

A cold thrill went through Danny as he digested Schueller's words. So there had been a _chance_, a moment ago, that he simply _couldn't_ help Vlad like this. And surely the doctor would have done it himself if he _could_...

Schueller walked into Danny's vision, and came to stand on the opposite side of Vlad's bed. He was holding a beaker of something bright green. "On the count of three, I need you to turn him onto his stomach and hold him down."

Danny tensed. "I'll have to stop..."

"We must be quick, but it is alright for a moment. I will count down. Yes?" Danny nodded, throat tight, and got ready.

"One. Two. Three!" Danny moved instantly, grabbing Vlad's hip and good shoulder, and flipped him. He only had an instant to take in the bright red patch of ecto energy dissipating to leave the wound open again. Then Schueller was pouring green fluid over it, and Danny's sole focus became keeping Vlad's writhing body in place.

Something like a chemical reaction took place, as every bit of liquid seemed to vaporize as it hit the wound. Steam tinged pale green went everywhere, filling the room with the smell of Vlad's ecto blood, and something bitter.

Through the haze, Danny heard the doctor yell to him. "Turn him back over!" Danny flipped Vlad again, gritting his teeth at the sensation. After the initial struggle, Vlad had gone completely limp. He looked and behaved like a corpse. Even his face was empty, while before it had been tense with pain.

The fear sitting in Danny's stomach rose up and, like a switch being flipped, transformed into rage. He clenched his hands, face twisting. "What did you _do_...?"

"I _sealed_ it!!" Schueller glared back at him, furious for an instant himself. "Of _course_." Then he closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. "Please, the _energy_ again..."

Danny's hands were back in position in an instant as if of their own accord, the urge to throttle Dr. Schueller gone as fast as it had come. Finding the right focus came faster a second time, and soon the soft green glow was back.

If Vlad died due to Doctor Schueller's incompetence, Danny's vow of non violence might go out the window, along with the doctor. But if Vlad died because of _him_...

A dark, nameless fear loomed somewhere in the back of Danny's mind. He knew better than to explore that space, to go anywhere _near_ that space. It was enough to recognize it, and understand that he'd been down that road before.

Danny grimaced, and stared up at the ceiling. Anywhere but down.

Vlad _looked_ dead. A dead ghost.

_Stop it._

Danny forced himself to concentrate on the energy transfer, refusing to let his mind wander anywhere else. If Vlad could take his energy, then he was still alive_._ Period.

After a little while, Dr. Schueller wrapped a rubber tie around Danny's arm, pulling it tight. Danny hardly noticed. A minute later there was a prick as a needle was inserted into a vein, and soon Vlad was receiving Danny's ghostly blood.

Two hours, and two more transfusions, trickled painfully by. Danny was given a strange drink between each transfusion, something Dr. Schueller said was the ghostly version of an energy drink. All that mattered was that it would allow Danny to act as a walking blood bank, at least for a little while, and still function normally so that he could maintain the energy flow that sustained Vlad's ghost form. Danny wasn't sure what would happen if Vlad were to transform while receiving a transfusion, and he didn't want to find out.

The transfusions were finally over, however, and now Schueller was gone, to retrieve the tools needed to operate on Vlad's human half. That promised to be a much more complicated ordeal, and Danny, alone with Vlad, was trying not to think about it. Schueller hadn't said much, but the doctor didn't need to: it was clear he believed Vlad was still in danger. His ghost half would likely fully recover at this point, but the human counterpart...that was a different body, a different set of rules.

And who could guarantee, if the human half died, what would really happen to the other? They hadn't been separated, as Danny's ghost and human halves had been long ago...

Danny's gaze slowly fell on Vlad's form, studying him. He was fully transformed now, which gave him hope, even if it was Danny's energy sustaining it. Vlad's hair was black, such a contrast to his human half, and his build, currently laid bare from the waist up, was more muscular. His left arm had been set in a sling by Schueller, and wrapped thoroughly to keep it from moving and thus aggravating the wound in his lower shoulder. He hadn't been given any stitches. Apparently, for ghosts, that generally did more harm than good.

Hadn't Vlad realized how much blood he'd lost? How dangerous it would be, if he were to pass out? That he might bleed to death in human form? Was his judgment _that_ skewed? Did he _want_ to die?

Danny felt a swell of desperation rise up, and a little anger. _Damn you Vlad, you're supposed to be smarter than this..._

Danny's gaze softened, as he reasoned things out. It was poor judgment, brought on by physical shock. Vlad _was_ smart, but somehow he'd been taken by surprise. He had likely had some amazing plan, but something had gone horribly wrong and he'd gotten hurt. And he just...it wasn't like he got injured like this every day. If _ever_. He had pushed himself, overestimated his strength, hadn't recognized just how far past the threshold of a safe recovery he'd _gone_...

Because he hadn't been thinking about himself. He'd been focused on Nathaniel.

Danny closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. Vlad couldn't die. Not now. Maybe his motives weren't the best, maybe he was manipulative and often hard to get along with, but that man he'd known years ago, back in his own time, when they'd both lost everyone they held dear...

He was lying here now.

Danny opened his eyes again, and gazed down at Vlad's blue-green chest, in a shade so similar to his own. His skin was too pale right now, washed out, and still streaked with now dry ectoplasm. Only the blood surrounding the area Schueller had wrapped was clean. If Danny looked carefully, he could see a subtle, incredibly slow rise and fall. He found irrational comfort in the movement, because for a short while Vlad hadn't been moving at all. Now his face held expression again and he was breathing, even if the look was pained and breathing, for a ghost, was abnormal.

_Am I studying him in case he never wakes up?_

The thought swooped in like a vulture, landing, invisible, in the middle of his mind. Vlad hadn't woken up through the transfusions, or even when they'd sealed up the hole in his chest by pouring that gunk in the wound earlier. His _body_ had reacted, he had even yelled out, but he hadn't really been _awake_.

If somehow everything went wrong with the coming operation, if Danny's last communication with Vlad had _already taken place..._

Danny's hands began trembling, subtly shaking against Vlad's skin, where green energy still flowed into him. Danny's shoulders followed, as the shuddering increased, radiating out from a chest that suddenly had a led weight instead of a heart and everything was constricting further around that weight, every second. The trembling in his hands became jerky, forcing themselves through muscles clenched painfully tight.

Danny hunched over, clinging to the focus need for maintaining the energy flow, as if it were his _own_ life line instead of Vlad's. The taste of salt came to his lips, so similar to human tears he could still remember. He sat hunched for some time, as the spasms grew less and less, and he slowly gained control again.

When Dr. Schueller returned some time later he didn't comment on Danny's face, or the puffiness under his eyes. He was all business, and was even dressed differently, with another set of gloves, and a mask he hadn't bothered with earlier at all. But then human bodies became infected more easily.

Too soon, it was time for the moment of truth. They only had a rough idea of how bad off Vlad's human half was. If it was comparable to his ghost half, that was already a nightmare. If it was _worse_...

"Stop the energy." Danny stared up at Schueller, a surge of fear washing through him. Then he slowly lowered his hands. They shook subtly from fatigue and fear.

Moments passed by, and stretched into what felt like minutes. Then, with a flash of dark light that made them both start, Vlad became human again.

Danny was only half aware of standing up, and turning slowly to walk a few paces away. The doctor seemed to be checking Vlad over, and in a brief instant of despair Danny vaguely wondered why. He had forgotten, or maybe had refused to notice, how bloody Vlad had been earlier, and thus how much blood he _must_ have lost...

Danny hadn't looked closely before turning away; he was too terrified of what he would see. Was it even possible for Vlad to be _alive_? Perhaps his life was slipping away this very moment..! Danny stayed facing mostly away, staring at the wall, unable to think straight as terror gripped his heart.

"...don't _believe_ it." The doctor's voice came as if from a distance. Danny cringed slightly, as the words finally processed. After all the work to keep him alive, if Vlad were dead, Schueller would be amazed, in denial. It was only natural...

_No_...

"This is incredible!" A hand grasped his elbow, tugging slightly, and Danny turned to see Dr. Schueller grinning up at him. It was surreal.

Then things sped back up again as a wild hope rushed in, and Danny pushed past him, wide eyed, to study Vlad closely.

Schueller had used a sponge to clear away the blood. What was left was the start of a very deep, very nasty bruise. Aside from that, Vlad looked...surprisingly good.

Danny could only stare.

Schueller went around to the other side of the bed. "Help me turn him. Underneath may be worse." He sounded more excited than worried, though. Together they turned Vlad over onto his stomach, and Schueller carefully wiped away the blood on his back.

Danny just didn't understand! Elated couldn't begin to describe how he felt right now, but...all that red, _human_ blood...it was Vlad's! But it didn't come from _this _little thing.

There was a thin cut on his back, corresponding to the wound he had in ghost form. It was two inches long at most. It _was_ nasty looking, but simply couldn't account for the blood caked over Vlad's body.

Schueller studied the cut closely, then declared it was nearly an inch deep, and would need two sets of stitches. One for the skin, and another to reconnect the muscle that had been cut apart below the skin.

But Vlad wouldn't need the six pints of plasma Schueller had with him, or the six following pints of blood. Schueller did give Vlad half a pint of plasma, and said it was more of a courtesy than a necessity, since despite all the blood Vlad clearly lost earlier, he was doing quite well now.

Danny helped Schueller with the surgery, though that generally meant staying out of his way. Two sets of needles, two types of thread, forty-five stitches, and an hour later, they were done.

And that was it. Vlad was out of danger. The other wounds were superficial, or at least non life threatening. After rubbing some sort of ointment into the humongous bruise on Vlad's shoulder, Schueller wrapped it up, and put the arm in a sling. Then they cleaned Vlad up and moved him to another bed. Finally, Schueller gave Danny a list of things to do, and left, promising to check up on Vlad the next day.

As Danny sat watching Vlad sleep, it finally clicked. He immediately felt stupid, and was certain that his younger self would have known or guessed from the start...

Vlad was a halfa, of course. That explained the healing. Danny had possessed the ability to heal at an incredible rate, too, long ago. For whatever reason, whichever form _wasn't being used_ would always heal incredibly quickly. It went into some extreme regeneration mode that Danny had never achieved as a pure ghost.

In some ways, Danny's human half had made him much stronger.

The thought came as a shock, that faded quickly into a resigned, pained embarrassment. A few years ago, Danny knew that he wouldn't have been capable of recognizing that simple fact. He had been too mired in layer after layer of denial; had been convinced that everything human was weak. Perhaps that was why the explanation for Vlad's miraculous recovery hadn't occurred to him until now.

Of course, as a halfa, Danny remembered that injuries carried over from one form to the other, too. If they didn't, Vlad's human body wouldn't have been injured at all. And Danny knew the ghost half had sustained the injuries, because as a human Vlad was intangible in the Ghost Zone, and so couldn't have been hurt in that form. Again, Danny was amazed at not catching that sooner, but then it had been years since he had thought of things from a halfa's perspective.

But Danny should have known about the healing; _should_ have remembered. Now that he did, he couldn't imagine having forgotten in the first place.

Ultimately, though, would things have changed that much? It had been the delay, the hours spent maintaining Vlad's ghost form even as he slept, that had allowed his human half to heal so quickly. It may even have saved his life, because as a human, if he had bled out while his ghost half was hypothetically healing...

Assuming Dr. Schueller had come been prepared to treat a human, Vlad might have died on the operating table.

Somehow things had worked themselves out. And after his earlier brush with despair, Danny found himself reveling in a deep sense of gratitude.

The early rays of the dawn were beginning to peek through the bedroom window. Danny slowly leaned forward, allowing himself to rest his head and shoulders on Vlad's bed.

As he fell into a peaceful slumber, Danny could hear Vlad's deep, regular, and infinitely comforting breathing.

* * *

**Author's note**: Woo. I'm not dead. I did break my finger though, curses. If you checked my profile, you know what I've been busy with: school! Please R&R. It helps me update faster? :) (Being done with the semester should help too.) Update: I am a random idiot. :)


	28. Brief Interlude

Author's Note: This is very short. That's because I was looking through my stuff (I've actually written tons on the next chapter already) and realized I'd left this scene out of chapter27. So. I moved things around, and did a really quick post. SORRY 'BOUT THAT! Ahahaaaa. The second scene you read in the previous chapter...though I'm removing it from 27 after this. Yay. :)

**Interlude**

* * *

Sam had cleaned Nathaniel off as best she could using the sink in Jack Fenton's lab, since explaining copious amounts of blood to everyone did _not_ sound like fun.

She had forgotten about the state of Nathaniel's ghost half until he transformed in the middle of the night, in her arms, in bed. Sam, still mostly awake, hadn't been able to suppress a yell.

"Oh gross..." Sam shifted a little, and he _squelched_. Sam sat up in bed, and came face to face with a concerned Danny Phantom. A moment ago he had been hanging out on her roof, insisting on giving her privacy, yet knowing he needed to stay close by. Nathaniel, now without his wrist band or playpen, could transform at any time.

Danny stared down at Nathaniel for a moment, taking him in. Then he held out his arms.

"Here."

Sam blushed, and handed him over. "Thanks." They both knew blood wasn't her thing, however many vampire novels she'd read. Danny headed toward the bathroom, and she got up, quietly following.

Nathaniel, meanwhile, was just now waking up properly. Danny had found it strange when Sam told him that Nathaniel would fully shift between forms even while asleep. Perhaps, having been born a halfa, each form was equally natural for him.

Danny went straight to the shower, and turned the water on, letting it heat up. Then he sat on the toilet, with Nathaniel blinking up at him sleepily. "D'n Dan…?" The kid looked incredibly sleepy, and a little worried. The sound of running water (for the second time that night too!) didn't bode well.

Danny grinned and ruffled his hair. Then he carefully began pulling off Nathaniel's clothing. Sam watched while leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed. Nathaniel had been upset by things tonight. But even so he was still smiling right now, was healthy, and comfortable in Danny's arms. Whatever had happened tonight, things had turned out all right.

Then she very nearly rubbed green goo on her nose while attempting to stifle a yawn.

That woke her up.

Sam frowned, her thoughts turning dark, and shuffled to the bath tub, running her hands under the tap. She looked sideways to where Danny sat, and spoke quietly.

"Vlad...got pretty beat up."

Danny's smile faltered slightly. "Yeah." Nathaniel's shirt finally came off, and Danny rolled it up into a tight ball. He glanced over at her, raising his eyebrows. "Hey, watch out." Sam moved, and he tossed it in the bathtub. Then he stood up, and smiled down at Nathaniel, who was using Danny's chest for an impromptu game of patty cake. "Guess what time it is, kiddo? It's bath time!"

Sam got the shower going, and moved back, taking the vacated toilet as a seat. She watched as Danny playfully gave Nathaniel a bath, smiling softly.

Her thoughts were still on Vlad. He was infuriating. Sam acknowledged that wholeheartedly. And she was certain he wanted Nathaniel. But right now she was grateful to him, and a little worried too. She didn't _want_ to be. But she had learned to trust her instincts, and tonight's events hadn't been planned, at least not by him. The wounds were genuine, and deadly. And whatever else they meant, they made one thing clear to her.

Vlad honestly cared for Nathaniel. Though knowing him, it was against his better judgement.

Sam smiled wryly to herself, remembering their month's old confrontation. She still didn't trust him any further than she could throw him, of course.

"One fresh, clean baby boy, ready for bed!" Sam startled slightly, and looked up, feeling vaguely guilty at her rather fluffy thoughts. Danny was holding Nathaniel up, who was now wrapped in one of her biggest, softest towels.

Sam threw her hands up. "Woah, wait a sec, I'm still gross!" She jumped up. "Let me..." She raced into the bedroom, and threw together a quick change of clothes, holding them carefully to avoid gooing them up, then returned to shoo Danny out. "Give me a minute."

Sam had a funny thought as she turned to start up the bath again. If Vlad ever came up in conversation, would she be the one trying to convince Danny that...well, maybe Vlad wasn't _all_ bad after all? And that _definitely_ wasn't right. She was the cynic!

When she came back out of the bathroom, Danny and Nathaniel were snuggled up together on the bed. Danny glanced up at her, and she smiled softly at him. He shifted slightly, as if to get up, and Sam quickly raised her hands to stop him. Nathaniel was already back asleep, tiny hands curled into Danny's chest.

Sam came over, whispering. "Stay for now. It's okay." She climbed carefully under the covers, trying not to jostle them. Danny hadn't bothered getting under the covers, so that wasn't too hard to do.

After a moment Danny relaxed again, watching over them both with drowsy eyes. Sam fell asleep on her side, the back of one hand gently touching Nathaniel's back.

* * *

He had left just before dawn, when everyone was still slumbering, and he planned to be back before anyone noticed he'd left. Of course, Danny didn't want to leave Sam and Nathaniel even for a few hours, especially now that the playpen and wrist band were gone. But there was something pulling at his mind that wouldn't let him go.

He had to check on Vlad.

They weren't exactly on good terms. In fact their relationship could be described simply: bitter, antagonistic, and lately very distant. Danny would never get Vlad's world view, and yeah…Vlad would probably never get his either.

But Danny was still sneaking around Vlad's mansion, having arrived minutes before, and was looking around for the older halfa.

Just...to make sure.

He finally found Vlad on the second floor, asleep in one of the guest bedrooms.

He wasn't alone.

Danny's older self was slumped forward in a chair nearby, his head pillowed in his arms, which rested on the edge of the bed, maybe a foot from Vlad's side. He was asleep, but looked ready to fall any moment, perched haphazardly as he was.

Danny stood there, silently staring. Studying.

He had seen what he needed- Vlad, fixed up, sleeping soundly, and surely on his way to bouncing back from his injuries, like he always did. Yet Danny couldn't leave just yet.

He hadn't expected to see his older self with him like this, watching over him. But then he hadn't expected to see Vlad get so beaten up while protecting Nathaniel that he couldn't even maintain his ghost form properly, and needed help flying...

There was a thump, and Danny started violently. Then he had to smother a grin; his double had just flopped to the floor, still asleep! He watched, strangely amused, as a gloved hand grabbed the edge of the bed and his older self slowly hefted himself back up. His face appeared, looking groggy.

Then Danny's amusement turned to unease, as their eyes met. He felt strangely defiant. He could've gone invisible. Why hadn't he?

Danny looked away first, feeling slightly embarrassed, and confused. His older self looked surprised, in a tired way, and a little wary. Danny could feel his stoic gaze still on him, as he turned to look at Vlad instead.

It was insane, but Danny realized he was actually jealous. Just a little. Vlad hadn't shown any interest in him for over a year now. Of course, he was concentrating on Nathaniel.

But maybe not. Maybe he'd found another replacement for Danny, after all these years. An heir.

Someone he could trust with his life.

Danny's eyes jumped back to his older self again, and he was caught by surprise to see him looking at Vlad. Dan's face was pinched, as though he'd been through something grueling, but his expression was gentle. Protective. Danny suddenly realized without having to be told why he had flown all the way there.

Vlad's life had been in danger that night.

His older self slowly looked over at Danny again, having felt his gaze, but Danny looked away instantly, deeply embarrassed.

Fear gripped him. Danny turned, and fled back to Amity, to a world that still made sense.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry again for the mix up. (Organizatioooon! It's not my strong point.) Please R&R? :)


	29. Cat Out of the Bag

**Chapter 29: Cat Out of the Bag**

* * *

"Just chug it." Vlad stared for a long moment at the disgusting drink held under his nose. As his frown deepened, a low chuckle finally escaped from his tormentor.

Danny leaned back, a grin plastered on his face, and took the drink in both hands.

"Come on, it's not _that_ bad." He tried to suppress another chuckle for Vlad's sake...and failed.

Vlad gave him a dark look, then glanced away. "I'd prefer an Earl Grey tea."

Danny's grin widened slightly. "Well…I can heat _this _up for you."

Vlad's stomach churned at the thought, and after a moment he held his good hand out. "Well, come _on_ then." Danny quickly sat up and gave him the drink.

Vlad _did_ chug it, in only four gulps- though he had to pause after the first one in order to fight down his gag reflex.

"_Keh_." The glass was quickly replaced by another filled with water, and he took several more gulps to banish the taste, swishing each time. "_Vile_." _Swish, swish, swish._ "Absolutely _vile_..." He broke off to cough slightly, which made everything ache. Then he handed the glass back.

There was a quiet moment.

"There. All done until six tonight." Vlad just rolled his eyes. Daniel's voice was entirely too chipper. In fact, everything about him was annoyingly light hearted at the moment.

Another long moment passed. The climate grew uncomfortable, as Vlad's mood went further south.

He hated being in the dark, and he _hated _being powerless. And only a little while ago Vlad had awoken to find that he was bed ridden for the next two days (or was _supposed _to stay in bed, at least, and had a "guardian" who could easily -and apparently cheerfully- overpower him right now if need be). He also couldn't remember much of anything last night, after the struggle to stay conscious while waiting for Dr. Schueller to arrive.

Apparently he hadn't succeeded at staying conscious. That meant trouble; Schueller must have dealt with him as a human, thus now likely knew both of his identities. Of course, his cover had already been effectively blown by Spectra, so why _worry_? Vlad's jaw clenched slightly. Now she and Bertrand were yet another complication he needed to deal with. But right now…

Last night, Vlad had fallen unconscious in the _lab_. With Daniel by his side, and a slew of video surveillance feeds conspicuously open nearby.

Vlad glanced surreptitiously at his self proclaimed guardian. He just didn't understand Daniel's good mood, and it was beginning to put him on edge. What, _exactly_, was there to be so happy about? He scowled again.

Well. He didn't feel like _tiptoeing _today.

"Well…I suppose you can at least make yourself useful to me, if I'm trapped here until I've got enough strength back to _defend _myself against you." Vlad adopted a business tone, to veil his lingering uncertainty. "I need you to send off a few things to Samantha for me, for Nathaniel. You'll find them down in the lab."

He waited a moment, then glanced over, maintaining a distant look.

Daniel still seemed congenial enough. "No problem. Another playpen, a wrist band…is that it?"

Vlad continued to watch him carefully. "No. I think Nathaniel could use a ghost shield, after last night's events. I happen to have one in the lab as well."

Danny paused for a long moment. Some part of him was still a little angry about the spying, but after everything that had happened…he _really _needed to let that go.

He grinned lightly. "You know, if you didn't have those video cameras, who knows where Nathaniel would be right now."

"True."

Danny's grin turned lopsided. "I guess I should be…thankful."

Vlad narrowed his eyes. _Despite the fact that you have no right, and were probably planning something rotten. _Daniel didn't have to say it. Vlad _knew _he was _thinking _it!

He bristled. "It's not kind, or thoughtful, or _nice_." Vlad snorted softly. "But it _is _practical. And I _could've _done much worse, _Daniel_." It irked him on many levels, to deal with this after yesterday's events. Right after he had permanently given Nathaniel up.

Danny frowned, caught a little off guard by Vlad's bitter tone, the veiled accusation. He brushed it off, and smiled again, laughter in his voice. "Well Nathaniel's safe, so I'm still grateful…"

"Would you shut _up_ about Nathaniel!" Vlad looked away suddenly, hissing out his next words. "As if you are _ever _going to be a part of his life."

Danny was silent for a moment. Yesterday had been the first time he'd ever held his son. Ackowledging that it might be the last had been very painful. He watched Vlad, who was glaring daggers at the wall, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Maybe you're just upset your little _scheme _got _discovered_? Vlad?" Danny scowled, angry at himself as soon as the words were uttered. He didn't want to fight! Vlad had nearly died last night. He wanted to, to…enjoy his company. However lousy it was right now…

Vlad glanced over to see the scowl on Daniel's face, and grimaced in return. "How long have you been snooping in the _lab_, Daniel?"

Danny stared, considering what to say. "Since…we discovered New Age Technologies."

Vlad's eyes widened slightly, then he looked away, snorted softly. "I see…you're quite the _snoop_."

Danny couldn't stop himself. "Who's calling the kettle black _now_, Vlad?" Resentment was rising, after the incredible shock last night of almost losing this _cheese _head. Vlad should be grateful to be alive, instead he was sitting here trying to pick a _fight_! Better yet, he shouldn't have gotten himself injured in the _first _place!

Something stopped Danny from going off on him- probably the wish for them to just get _along_.

Vlad was steaming at the ears. He was injured, _bed _ridden, and had lost his last chance at a half ghost son, a family -because, oh yes, he _knew _Maddie would never be his- and for _what_? Some altruistic nonsense, silly sentimentalism! An attachment to people who _hated _him!

And he was left with this freak from the future with Daniel's face, who somehow felt he had the right to judge him in _any _way, when he was the one who had assaulted Samantha, he was the one who had wreaked havoc in another dimension, and _he _was the one who had overpowered Vlad's own ghost half and somehow forced a merge, stealing his power, his _identity_…!

"Daniel, get out." They stared at each other. Danny's eyes were wide with surprise. Then he narrowed them.

"No."

"_Get out_! I'm tired of looking at your _face_!"

"Give me a better reason!"

"Fine! I'm sick of being around an impostor, a…thief!" Vlad's face twisted into fury. "_Get out!!_" He shifted, pushing himself up one handed. It still hurt. He ignored it, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed.

Danny was up in an instant, his hands on Vlad's shoulders to keep him sitting. "Stop! You'll just hurt yourse…"

"_Don't touch me_!!" Danny reeled at the vehemence there. He let his arms drop, and stepped back a little. He couldn't keep the resentment from his face, and stared down at Vlad, refusing to move further.

"Then get back in bed." They glared at each other.

Danny dropped his voice a little, trying to hide the hurt he felt, trying to deflate the situation. "What do you mean, impostor?" He _knew _he wasn't his younger self.

Vlad's face darkened further, and Danny wasn't so sure he understood what he was angry about any more. "You didn't tell your entire story, _did _you Daniel? _Hmmm_? Didn't leave out a few life altering _moments_, perhaps?"

"Of course I did! Or it would've taken_…_" Then Danny got it, and flinched slightly.

"I thought I _survived_, Daniel?" Vlad's voice was soft, but harsh. "How could I survive, if…." His face twisted into a bitter grimace. "All this time I've helped you, knowing the truth, and you have the _gall _to talk down to me!!" Vlad pushed himself up, fury spiking, suddenly intent on taking a swing at Daniel's head…

Instead he collapsed on legs that were useless, his strength almost entirely gone.

Danny stopped his fall. His face twisted as he rested Vlad, who didn't even have the strength to try and resist, on the bed again. "I didn't _kill _you, Vlad." He gripped both of Vlad's shoulders tight, staring him in the face, his own face a kaleidoscope of shame, fury, and hurt. "But you nearly died last _night_, you freaking idiot!!"

Then he left.

* * *

Danny came back to let the doctor in later that afternoon, but didn't stay. That was rather convenient, because Vlad wanted to talk with Schueller, alone. After his wounds had been administered to, and his general level of strength ascertained, Vlad asked the doctor to sit.

"Doctor Schueller. Last night's events have yet to be recounted to me in the level of detail you _know _I appreciate…"

* * *

Daniel returned again at six, to give Vlad another vile drink of the healing serum. Vlad took it silently, followed by the glass of water to clear his throat.

Danny finally spoke, voice polite but distant. "Is there anything you need?" He stared at the wall as he talked.

"I'm…hungry." Vlad answered quietly. Meekly.

Danny's distant gaze slowly softened, and he finally looked Vlad in the face. He looked back, an apology in his eyes.

This wasn't easy to do. Vlad wasn't a naturally open person.

Danny looked startled, and for an instant, embarrassed. "Er, right. Of course." But more importantly to Vlad, Daniel was talking almost normally again. "I'll be right back."

Fifteen minutes later Vlad had a tray with steaming French onion soup, bread and cheese, and a cup of Chamomile tea sitting on his lap. Danny sat nearby, silently watching as he ate.

Vlad tried the bread roll. It was also French, and very tough. If his right arm wasn't so sore, he'd tear it into smaller pieces for dipping in the soup. He set it back down instead, and took a sip of tea.

Danny was by his side a moment later, tearing the bread into pieces. Vlad stared.

"That's…not…"

"It's no problem. I want to." Danny finished after a few moments, and sat back down again. Vlad looked at the bread for a long moment. Then he picked up a piece, dipped it in the soup, and ate it. For once, he didn't know what to say.

Then Danny started speaking, slowly and painfully. "I…thought I was _overshadowing _you. But we…merged instead. Everything back then was just..." He sighed. "But I _know _I didn't mean for that to _happen_…"

"Daniel." Vlad looked up, into pain filled eyes. "I want you to know that if we didn't share…some genetic material, you may not have been able to share your energy with me last night. I might have died. So…thank you. For saving my life." Vlad looked away. "And let the past stay there, I say."

A long moment passed, then Vlad startled slightly as a hand fell lightly on his good shoulder. He looked up into Daniel's face. It was tense, but happy. Daniel gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"You scared the _hell _out of me last night, Vlad. Don't _ever _do that to me _again_, okay?"

Vlad just smirked back.

* * *

Something about venturing into the Ghost Zone at night was inherently creepy. It wasn't that it changed at night; the entire realm had a permanent, garish green backdrop. But back home it was dark and silent, and everyone was asleep. And that mattered. A lot. Of course, that was also the entire _point_...

Jazz sat up a little straighter, and glanced down at the Specter Speeder's map to make sure she was still on course.

Okay, so she was a _little_ creeped out right now! It was a perfectly natural psychological response, given the situation. All she needed to do was think the right kind of positive thoughts.

_I'm going to see a strange ghost I have never met before, who I know to be more powerful than even __**Danny**__._

_Oka__aa__y_! That was _not_ a helpful thought.

_Come on Jazz, you're __a __human, nothing can touch you here!_

Well no, that wasn't actually true. There were exceptions; talismans that could make a human tangible, like the crown Prince Aragon had forced Sam to wear. And even if they couldn't _touch_ you, that didn't mean their _powers_ couldn't effect you. What about the Ghostwriter guy? They hadn't even _been_ in the Ghost Zone with him, but he had still messed with them!

And this Clockwork ghost controlled _time_. Getting stuck in the previous Ice Age did _not_ sound like fun...or maybe he could age her really, _really _fast...

Jazz bit her lip, and gripped the steering wheel harder.

_Oh geeze..._

This was _safe_. Jazz sighed softly. Relatively speaking, anyway! _Clockwork_ was safe. So why was she working herself up like this? Only last night they were all on their way to ask him for help in finding Nathaniel, right? And no one had protested.

Except Danny. He hadn't _said_ anything per se, but Jazz could read her little brother, and the plan to visit Clockwork had, well…it had deeply upset him.

Based on what Danny had told Jazz about Clockwork a few years before, he was the obvious person to ask for help, and Jazz had jumped at the idea. She had simultaneously blown off Danny's distress, assuming it was probably his fear for Nathaniel surfacing, or because Dan had suggested it.

In other words, she had compartmentalized Danny's fear, and set it aside.

Jazz sighed. It was natural, under the circumstances, but she still felt guilty. At least her mind had turned things over, and raised a red flag a little later on.

And Danny's reaction aside, _Dan_ had suggested Clockwork. How strange was _that_? The ghost who had kept him prisoner for...years?

Supposedly. Jazz wasn't so sure what was true anymore.

She _did_ know that Danny had disappeared for _three days_ right after his fight with Dan last winter, three days that he refused to talk about.

Jazz hadn't forgotten how shattered her brother was after that. Danny wouldn't leave his room. If he was sleeping, which she doubted, it wasn't restful, judging by the smudges under his eyes. And she was sure he had nightmares. He would also forget to eat, or forgo eating if it meant being with the family. And all the time, he had been trapped in some private hell that Jazz _couldn't help him with_.

_That_ was why she was out here, in the middle of the night, alone. Even Tucker couldn't be included this time. This was too private. Jazz didn't know what she might find out...but whatever it was, one person prying into it was enough. As Danny's older sister, _she_ was that person.

For years, she had taken the guardianship role her parents couldn't out of sheer ignorance. It wasn't that they weren't _there_ for him. They were; for Danny _Fenton_. But not Danny the halfa, Danny the ghost kid.

But Jazz was going behind Danny's back, and she hardly had the right to invite one of his best friends to join her. Yet she also had the _responsibility_ to look out for him...even when it meant poking her nose in his business. At least when Danny first became a halfa, Sam and Tucker had been there for him. This time, whatever he was dealing with, he was going it completely alone.

_This_ time, Jazz _needed _to be there for her little brother.

And Clockwork had the answers. _He_ was the one who had been charged with keeping Dan in check a few years ago, according to Danny. But two days ago Dan, who was _clearly_ free, had eagerly sought Clockwork out for help. And meanwhile Danny's response was a poorly hidden panic attack. Yeah. _This_ guy knew something.

And...she had just arrived at his home.

Jazz squinted at the floating island in the distance, double checking the map. A thrill of nervous tension went through her, but the fear was mostly gone. She was here for a reason, and she wanted _answers_, darn it! No one messed with her little brother and got away with it!

Besides, she really _was_ intangible here. She wouldn't even have to get out of the Specter Speeder; she'd just ghost through the place until she found Clockwork...and make a quick get away if necessary.

As she got closer to the island, it started to loom. It wasn't a small place. And...it was...

Jazz took her foot off the gas pedal and squirmed forward to get a better look, letting the Specter Speeder coast forward. It was clocks! Clocks inside clocks poking through clocks, tall and thin, fat and square, twisting around...

"_Oh_!" Jazz blinked, feeling a little dazed. She had been slammed forward, and had fallen back into her seat. And now she sat, staring at the wall in front of her.

She…she had _hit_ the wall.

Her second thought was that her parents were _definitely_ going to notice something _different_ about the Speeder.

Jazz quickly returned to her initial thought, and all the fear she had successfully quelled immediately rose up again. She had _hit_ the wall of the...castle, or whatever it was. That _wasn't_ supposed to happen.

Then a temptation rose up: forget the whole thing and turn around _now_. Jazz frowned at herself. She refused to waste her time sneaking all the way out here, just to turn back around! And she needed to do this, for Danny.

That was right.

Jazz let out a little groan of fear, face tight with worry, and reversed the Speeder. Well, she'd just have to park this thing and _walk_ in, that was all. No problem. _None_ whatsoever. Jazz began circling the castle, and soon something resembling a courtyard came into view. She maneuvered the Speeder up, over the outer wall, and down, landing it carefully inside the open space. She could see an entrance into the castle proper up ahead. She turned off the motor.

Then she sat.

_Jazz, you are _not_ a wimp!_ Maybe she would just...bring a few gadgets along. She turned around, to look through the bag of ghost hunting tools still in the back seat from yesterday. She'd take a Fenton thermos and the Fenton Peeler, only to be used as a last resort, of course. Her hands only trembled slightly, as she zipped the tools up into her jacket.

Jazz opened the door, and awkwardly stretched one leg down, down...yes. She was solid. Well, of _course_ she was. If the Speeder was solid, so was she. But there was no need to take chances. She got out, closed the door, and started toward the castle proper.

It was the most frightening walk Jazz had ever taken.

Danny had always been there before. _Someone_ had always been there. Walking into a ghost's den, in the Ghost Zone, by herself? This was straight out of her nightmares. And this place, like most areas in the Ghost Zone, wasn't natural. No sane architect would build something like this. More than anything it resembled a drawing by M. C. Escher, with clocks forming semi familiar shapes, to form pieces of clocks turned sideways, which were made up, if you looked again, of more clocks...it was one huge optical illusion, and turned her stomach sideways.

So Jazz tried to keep her eyes locked on the huge double doors up ahead, and after what felt like an eternity, she reached them. She knocked several times, then stood waiting for a response.

She found herself thinking of old fairy tales. This was an enchanted castle, like in Sleeping Beauty, or Beauty and the Beast. Jazz snorted as an image of an over sized Cogsworth greeting her suddenly popped up, and before she knew it she was laughing out loud.

Jazz recognized that it was because she was so freaked out, and laughter was a coping mechanism, and part of her was _desperately_ trying to get under control again. But the thought was insanely funny, actually, and she couldn't help...!

Her laughter turned into a brief shriek as the door opened inward, to reveal a pint sized ghost. He was carrying a large walking staff that looked far too heavy for him. He also had a clock, ticking back and forth. Inside his..._chest_.

Jazz stood staring at him, panting as adrenaline roared through her system.

He stared right back.

She finally squeaked something out. "Are you Clockwork?" _No, no, no, he can't be more than ten! This can't be him! _

"Yes."

"Oh! You're so _young_!" Jazz's brain did a flip flop. _No! Yes!_ Danny had _said_ he could control his age, that was right! _Oh Jazz, you're so stupid...he has a clock in his _chest_! This is him!_

Clockwork (if this really _was_ Clockwork, Jazz's frazzled mind still pointed out) just smiled.

"Er..."

Then he _aged_. It was like watching a time lapse video of a flower opening up or of the clouds passing overhead, except that this was an order of magnitude more bizarre. It took several seconds, as he grew and stretched, shooting up from a little twerp to a towering adult. The staff he held made sense now.

"Is this better?" His voice had changed too.

She just stared. It was surreal, unbelievable. He was a young man now; late teens, maybe early twenties. Jazz almost wanted to reach out and touch him to make sure he was real, but that was precisely what frightened her. She was tangible, and probably _could_ reach out and touch him.

He floated backward, pulling the door further open, and beckoned her inside. "Please..."

Jazz swallowed, and gave into temptation by putting a hand inside her jacket so that she could finger the Fenton thermos. _I can't believe I'm doing this._ Then she followed him inside.

Clockwork started sedately forward. Jazz kept up with him, staying to his left. Unlike most ghosts, he wasn't bothering to form feet or even legs, letting nearly half his body remain incorporeal.

Jazz's mind, meanwhile, was still wrestling with the incredible phenomenon she'd just seen. Many strange things had happened over the years, but tonight's events crossed a new boundary. Her mind was temporarily..._stuck_.

She had come to the Ghost Zone alone, at night- which was already a new and unpleasant experience- only to discover that in Clockwork's home she was somehow _solid. _So she had been forced to leave the comfort of the Specter Speeder and make her way by foot to a giant clock castle, where she had encountered a ghost who proceeded to _age_ himself ten years right in front of her...!

And now they were walking side by side through his castle, as though she were an expected guest...

Although he _wasn't_ walking, since all he had was that wispy tail. Jazz realized she was staring at it, and began to look around instead.

Her mind had gone strangely blank, refusing to form a specific question, as the surreal nature of the stranger gliding next to her sank in further. How had she thought she could talk about Danny with this ghost? Who knew what he _really_ knew? How would he react to her questions? And what if he was an _enemy_? She could even be putting Danny in danger, by giving away private facts about him!

So Jazz's eyes wandered over the scenery, avoiding him, as a panicked part of her wondered desperately how to extricate herself from this strange, and likely dangerous situation.

They were moving down a large, long hallway, which branched on either side every dozen feet or so. The entire place was too dark, and seemed to be deserted. The ceilings were twenty feet up, making the place feel over sized, particularly given that it hadn't seemed quite so large on the outside. The clockwork motif was also continued, with a myriad of different kinds of clocks, or pieces of clocks built into the walls, and occasionally set against them as a grandfather clock would be in the human world. It seemed messy, and too random, and only unsettled Jazz more. She let her eyes focus down on her feet instead. Then they were drawn to the right, back over to his wispy tail.

Jazz froze for instant as Clockwork laughed. The sound was shocking, and for an instant she expected him to say something nefarious about how foolish she was to come here, how his evil plan was coming together perfectly...

She forced herself to stare up at him, and he fell silent, leaving behind a smile that could be either benevolent or cruel. His eyes were unreadable.

"Is this better?" He gestured downward.

_Oh._

The tail was gone. He was _standing_ now, on his own pair of perfectly solid legs, the belted, dark purple shirt he wore now matched by a pair of pants and dark boots. His laughter suddenly made sense, as Jazz finally recognized the look in his eyes for what it was: bemusement.

His lighthearted, strangely accommodating reaction managed to flip the switch in Jazz's mind that had been stuck in neutral for the last few minutes. Her purpose for coming here returned in a rush, and the questions she couldn't form moments before were clear again.

She frowned up at him. "No. I mean...that's not _important_ to me. Though I'm sorry I stared, that was rude," she added conscientiously. Then she scowled, angry at herself for wasting even another moment on nonsense. "Look, aren't you even curious who I _am_?"

"You're Jazz Fenton. Danny's older sister." Clockwork spoke quietly.

She stared.

"Follow me a little further. I'll show you." _ Show her what?_ He turned to the right and stepped toward a door Jazz could've sworn hadn't been there a moment ago, and threw it open. He stepped back, holding an arm out to invite her inside, smiling slightly.

Her questions were put off a little longer as Jazz walked, wide eyed, into the very room Danny, Sam, and Tucker had fallen into several years ago. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the center piece of the room- a view screen of sorts, with moving images. She walked toward it.

As she got closer, everything else fell away completely. Shock spread through her. _This_ was...

"Yes, that's you." Jazz leaped straight up, doing an impromptu pirouette in midair to land facing Clockwork, who had followed her in. "A few hours from now, in fact." His gaze moved to the view screen, and she turned too, almost involuntarily.

Her future self was in the process of climbing out of the Specter Speeder, which was parked back in her parents laboratory.

Jazz stared for a few moments. Then her fists slowly clenched. If he was trying to…make her feel _better _by showing that she would be safe and sound a few hours from now, he had failed miserably!

Everyone had suffered through Sam's disappearance, especially Danny. And this ghost had been in a position to help find her! It was hard for Jazz to think of life without Nathaniel now, but…Sam had been put through so much! They _all _had!

"No, I'm _not _doing this…" Despite everything, part of her wanted to brush it aside, listen quietly while this ghost calmed her down. Well, that _wasn't _happening. She turned to face him abruptly, every protective instinct firing off.

"Okay, start talking mister! Why did you disappear when Danny needed you the most? Why did you let Dan out? Exactly what are you trying to do- make Danny as miserable as _possible_? Because if that was your goal, you've succeeded!"

Jazz glared up at Clockwork for a long moment. Then she went on. "I've got a better question. Why is Danny _terrified _of you?" She stared at him, eyes narrowed. Part of her told her she should be afraid, but it was overruled by the anger, the protectiveness, the sheer _indignation _that this person thought he could hurt her brother deeply and think nothing about it.

"I told him some…painful truths. About himself." Clockwork was still calm despite her open anger, and it threw Jazz off.

She crossed her arms, still frowning. "What 'truths'? And why would you know more about Danny than _he _does?"

"I know certain things Danny will fully understand and accept…in time. Every time is the present for me, Jazz. I know his life story."

Jazz just stared. She didn't know what to say, or think. Either this ghost was some powered up version of the Ghostwriter, with megalomaniac tendencies….or he was _really_…

He went on. "Danny is my responsibility. My charge. As he _must _be. He is a powerful force in this world, the changes he causes in it so all encompassing I can't afford to simply…observe."

Finally, a hint of remorse showed through. A ghost of regret tinged his words. Jazz stood quiet for a long moment, letting his attitude, and what he was saying sink in.

Somehow, she wanted to believe him. But it was like believing in God. You had to have faith. And hopefully you had some intuition to work with too…

And it _hurt_! So many things had happened to Danny because of this ghost! He was even openly admitting to messing with Danny's life! Yet Jazz couldn't see any feigned contriteness, any hidden maliciousness, anything sneaky or conniving or just plain evil about him…

Jazz crossed her arms more tightly. She started speaking, and suddenly realized how close she was to shedding tears. "I don't _know _about Danny being too…_important _to leave alone, or whatever. But I do know that he's my _brother_, and he's been _suffering_. Because of things _you've _done. _Why_? Why is that _necessary_? How does that help _anyone_?" She waited, her mouth forming a thin, trembling line.

Clockwork didn't answer immediately. Instead his eyes went to the view screen, and Jazz turned a little to follow his gaze. Alien images played out on it of a strange, futuristic city covered by a huge shimmering dome of energy. She watched, waiting for it to relate somehow to the pain in her chest, the pain her brother had gone through. Then a building caught her eye: Casper High.

She was looking at Amity.

Clockwork spoke behind her. "Sometimes a person needs to experience the worst in order to appreciate the best. And sometimes…they need to _be _the worst, so they can understand the slippery path that leads down that road. So they can live to do everything they _can _to build a world up, instead of tearing it down."

The view began to pan out. City blocks became city sections, then Amity became entirely visible, encased in its huge bubble. The surrounding landscape became visible, until Amity was only a central point…

Jazz gasped, as she took in the view. _Her _Amity was surrounded by a forest of tall, straight trees that reached up forever, with many small creeks running throughout. The land surrounding this Amity was a war zone, pockmarked and ugly, with entire sections turned to the brown of dirt where the trees had been blown away. And as the view expanded, her eyes were drawn to a single point, where brilliant flashes of light were going off over and over. As she began to wonder at it, the scene closed in suddenly.

It was Dan. He was forming an ecto blast with one foot, then the other, each time twisting in the air to rocket it toward the southwest edge of what she now recognized as Amity's shield.

Dan's blasts- thrown with the same attitude a kid would practice soccer kicks for a game, namely without the best concentration and hardly with a serious attitude- would ricochet off the shield to haphazardly hit somewhere behind him and add another pockmark to the land. Jazz realized a few small fires had broken out behind him.

He was younger here, maybe sixteen years old, and looked more like Danny did when he first got his ghost powers. Something about seeing him like this was…

Jazz's throat ached. Tears were in her eyes. She couldn't look away, as Dan kept blasting at the shield. Fear was clawing its way up her throat. _Why show her this? _

"That's not Danny." She turned to look at Clockwork, eyes wide, and glittering with unshed tears. Her voice was breaking with the strain of talking through the lump in her throat. "_That's not Danny." _Jazz stared up at him a moment longer, then closed her eyes, letting the tears fall. She cried deep in her throat, slow hiccups of tone stretched into a low keening.

Several long moments passed by. Jazz couldn't speak. She could only hug herself, and turn away completely from the view screen, hiding from it.

She couldn't ignore Clockwork, though, who stood only a few feet away, silently waiting. Her tears gradually slowed, though the pain still ran through her almost like a physical wound. Jazz finally brought her eyes up to his again.

Compassion. His eyes overflowed with it. He was still and quiet, but his eyes were on fire, more powerfully emotive than she thought someone could be. Yet as she looked it was clear as day; he suffered with her. He felt for her. And he was deeply sorry for her pain.

After a long moment, a sad, ironic little smile touched her lips. But it was still half grimace, and her eyebrows were still drawn down in deep pain, as she searched for answers.

"_How_?"

Clockwork closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them his mantle of detached calm had returned; the strong emotion from a moment ago hidden away. "A few years ago Danny accidentally split himself in two; his ghost and human bodies were separated. Each had a distinct personality, distinct goals and mannerisms." His tone turned slightly droll. "The ghost fancied himself savior of Amity, possibly the world, while the human preferred mindless entertainment. Do you remember?"

_Oh _yes. Actually, Jazz had thought she was going crazy at the time. Danny had explained things to her later, when things were back to normal and their parents weren't around. It had seemed outlandish, but…no more so than a dozen other things in their lives at the time. Now the entire thing seemed sinister, holding a darker meaning.

"You still considered them _both_...to be your brother."

Jazz's mouth twisted at the implications. Clockwork was…_right_. She couldn't deny they were both Danny.

The letter Dan had sent floated in her mind, and the phone call.

"But _he's _from the _future_…"

"Yes." She stared at him for several moments. Jazz couldn't pretend she understood any of this, but…

"But, he…then do we _all _have doubles? Aren't there…two souls, or something, wouldn't it be…" She didn't know what she meant. It just didn't make _sense_. But having two Dannys around, one with a super hero complex, the other a complete slacker…that hadn't made sense either.

Clockwork spoke, raising an eyebrow. "What about the people who died in one time and not the other?"

Jazz stared. That was a good point! But Clockwork wore a half smile on his face, his eyes gently laughing.

"There is only one time line, if you want to call it that…and each person in the timeline is unique. Danny could split himself a thousand ways, then go a thousand places in time, and he would still have a single soul. You and your family died in an explosion a few years ago…yet you also didn't. That reality has been unmade. But there _is _an echo of that memory, somewhere in you."

He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. When he spoke, it was slower, his words holding more gravity. "The soul cannot be destroyed, and conversely, it can't be duplicated. It can, however, reside in more than one body simultaneously. Ultimately, that is always a…temporary condition. Even if the bodies don't merge back together, one or both will age, die…and the soul moves on."

Jazz stared down at her feet, feeling scared. That…was a _lot _to take in. If what he said was true, Jazz couldn't ignore what it meant for Danny…and Dan.

Jazz had never been strongly religious. She was a mediator, and having parents who fought tooth and nail over the very existence of God tended to push her into a careful limbo on the subject. But it was important to her dad, and he had said some similar things. The soul was…immortal, and unique. Impossible to destroy. From that standpoint, what Clockwork said made sense.

And…maybe she'd just have to have faith, and trust her intuition.

It was terrifying, though.

_No wonder Danny didn't want to come here. _His implied connection to Dan…_that _was what had been tearing him apart. The self loathing, the refusal to be near Sam, his belief, for a while, that she just had to _hate _him…

_Oh Danny. _Jazz started tearing up again, and delicately wiped at her eyes, trying to get it back under control. She let out a long sigh. How horrible! It explained everything, though. His extreme behavior. He had been suffering even more than she _realized_. Jazz suddenly wanted to go straight home and give him a hug, to let him know everything was alright! But then she might have to explain herself…

And now there was Dan, irrevocably placed into their lives. Jazz couldn't ignore him anymore, as she had when she encountered him a few years ago. Back then he had been shoved into the category in her mind labeled "dangerous ghost!" She couldn't pretend that was all he was anymore.

It was why his letter had been so upsetting, along with the realization that _he _had been talking to her on the phone…

She swallowed. He…really _was _her brother.

Jazz put both hands to her face, covering it, and gently rubbed her eyes. After a long moment she slowly lowered her hands, a frown on her face. Everything was so _complicated _now. And she wasn't exactly sure what Clockwork had implied about Danny and Dan's future, but it was twisting her stomach in knots at the _thought _of thinking about it.

Jazz looked up again, feeling ridiculously tired, and weirdly on edge. "Clockwork…if Danny…and Dan…share the same…"

He interrupted quietly. "Jazz. I want to show you something…" Clockwork's eyes were focused behind her, at the view screen. She turned, with some trepidation, to follow his gaze.

She didn't look away for a long time.

Later, Jazz returned to the Specter Speeder, immersed in her own thoughts, and made her way home.

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Author's Note: I like this chapter's title. :D It's the little things in life that bring joy sometimes. :P What did Clockwork show Jazz??? Hmmmmmm. Ahahahahaaaa. Your reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated. :)


	30. Blame the Box Ghost Interlude

Author's note: Before you get annoyed at the shortness, I've got an actual chapter nearly ready to post- should go up in a day or two. _This _is just my attempt at mild humor. If you chuckle once or twice I'll be happy. :P

And a special shout out to E-Dantes for kicking me a bit. Mucho gracias senorita! (And if I spelled that wrong, oops!)

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**Interlude**

**Blame the Box Ghost**

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"It was the _Box _Ghost."

Officer Higgsworth quirked an eyebrow at Danny. "The…Box Ghost." He was holding a clipboard, pencil poised over it. "Can you spell that?"

Danny stared dumbfounded for a moment.

"Uh...T-H-E….B-O-X....G-O-S-T." He paused, blushing. "Except with an H after the G." He heard a quiet snort nearby. Sam was laughing at him.

Today…was _not _a good day.

Danny trudged on. "So anyway…he took the playpen. Didn't know it had a _baby _in it." _The doofus. _Danny didn't have to fake the frown or the bags under his eyes. Last night had been bad.

And since there hadn't been a pause hardly anytime between now and then, this was _kind _of like a continuation of last night…

So, last night _extended_. With surround sound.

A tick started up in Danny's left eye.

_I can't spell ghost…_

Sam piped up, giving the officer a quirky half grin. Nathaniel was balanced on her hip, watching with interest. "Good thing Danny comes from a family of ghost hunters. Which is, incidentally, why you _really _shouldn't give Jazz a ticket. She was _totally _panicking…" Sam launched into their pre-planned explanation for last night's events, in which Jazz had discovered the Box Ghost, toting Nathaniel, as he whizzed through the Ghost Portal (which was conveniently located in the Fenton basement, where Jazz just _happened _to be doing chores at the time.)

They had talked to law enforcement a few times already today. _This _run down, with Higgsworth, was apparently for police records, and to confirm one last time that everything was okay now, etc.

Yup, Nathaniel hadn't spontaneously disappeared again. Everything was just hunky dory.

Danny, already bored, mostly tuned out as Sam worked her magic. He knew the story by heart. The important thing, of course, was that it was believable. Danny smirked to himself a little at that- what _wasn't _believable in this town? Especially when it had _anything _to do with the Fentons?

Danny's smirk widened as he thought of his dad, and how he would be chasing the Box Ghost around the city the first chance he got, ghost catching equipment in full swing. His parents would probably hold a grudge for _quite _a while. Of course, Danny would need to save the idiot, if his _mom _ever caught him. He was ticked off at the Box Ghost right now, but nobody deserved that.

His mom was scary. That was all there was to it. And seriously weird, too.

But not as weird as his dad.

At least neither of them was actually insane. That honor was reserved for good ole Uncle Vlad.

And on _that _subject…Danny had decided long ago that Vlad's infatuation with Maddie Fenton, who was an incredibly _capable _ghost hunter, was the clearest sign of insanity the man had ever exhibited. _Seriously_. How could he _not _see the problem with that? He either had a death wish, or he really _was _a crazed up fruit loop.

Thus the nick name. He _had _to be a complete nut.

Danny let out a deep, silent sigh. At least one thing had gone right: his parents hadn't been involved in the crisis.

And _there _was irony for you. They had been out on their own date last night, having left shortly after Danny. When they had returned, Jazz was dead asleep, and Danny wasn't home. They had assumed he was still out with Sam.

Danny could picture his dad standing in his bedroom door, smirking:

"_Those rascals!" Chuckle, chuckle._

So Jack and Maddie had turned in for the night, deciding they didn't need to worry about Danny. Ah, young love.

Until the police showed up on the doorstep the next morning, they hadn't known _anything _had happened.

Danny had raced back home pretty fast, after Jazz called him. She had pulled the bathroom stunt: aka, she had locked the bathroom door from the outside, and yelled, "Danny's in the bathroom Mom!" This worked well, and was used frequently- though he _had _gotten a laxative as a stocking stuffer a few years back.

After his parents and the police had gotten an explanation about the night before- mostly provided by Jazz before he got there- they, sans the police, had taken off for Sam's house, Danny in tow. That had been convenient, since he _really _needed to get back there anyway.

Jack and Maddie had been a combination of relieved and aggravated. Nathaniel was safe again, which was _great_, of course. But they wondered: _why _hadn't anyone thought to include the _professional _ghost hunters, after all? So _what _if they were at a movie? With their cell phones turned off?

Their time at the Manson household had been unique, as usual...

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Maddie was _probably _staring intently at Sam. It was hard to tell with those goggles. "Sweety, we want you to know that we can _fortify _this house _against ghost _attacks- just like we did our own! And we won't charge a thing."

Everybody had crowded in Sam's bedroom, much to her private annoyance, Danny was sure.

Jack jumped in. "Wouldn't _dream _of it! We're practically family!" Jack had his hands on his hips, chest jutting out. Danny stood next to him, feeling mildly embarrassed. After years of being mortified by his parents, however, the effect had gradually worn off.

"I'll…need to talk it over with my parents. But thanks a lot." Sam's parents were there too, currently hovering in her bedroom door, looking aggravated and slightly haggard. Sam gave the Fentons a distracted smile, which twisted suddenly as Nathaniel shifted in her arms. He was getting bored...and the wristband was now gone.

Even without that to worry about, the thought of living in a house fortified like the _Fenton's_, with a toddler halfa…?

Just…_no_.

Jack was already infomercialing away on the benefits of an anti-ghost household, (which begged the question: how had Danny _survived _all these years?). Nathaniel, meanwhile, was getting more interested in escape.

"Now, we've got some _incredible _stuff for you guys…"

Arg. Interested in _upward _escape. Of the flying variety.

"…of course, you'll want the Fenton ghost demolisher- conveniently fits in the hallway closet…"

Nathan's little hands were pushing away from Sam, his face saying 'Hey, I'm not gonna _fall _already! Let me go!' Sam hugged him closer, and shot Danny a look.

"…that _Box _Ghost, just _wait _till he tries getting past the Fenton _Finalizer- _it attaches conveniently to the ceiling…"

Danny silently split his form, an invisible ghost peeling away to fly over and hover above Sam and Nathaniel. He gently put his hands on Nathan's shoulders, invisibly pressing down.

"…_looks _like a broom, but just rev it up- and watch those ecto cretins _explode every_where- _and _they'll never see it coming…"

Nathan looked startled for an instant, then twice as interested, staring up as though waiting for someone to appear. Danny could _see _an idea forming on his face. He could almost feel Nathaniel about to act the very next _instant_…

"…maybe a little _messy_, but…"

"Nath…_no_!" Both Danny's yelled out simultaneously- he still wasn't as good at this duplicates thing as Vlad.

But at least it worked. Nathaniel relaxed into Sam's arms again. "Dan…_neh_…" Then he twisted around to face the Danny he _could _see. He pouted, his face clearly saying _'what gives?' _Jack clapped a hand down on Danny's shoulder, making him jump slightly. "Son, what's the matter? You scared the little tyke! Ants crawl up your pants?"

"Um, yeah, something…bit me…"

Jack pursed his lips, looking thoughtfully confused. "Might have a case of ecto-bugs in here…by the way, is it just me or is there an _echo_?" He frowned, a mad genius glint in his eye. "Or maybe…an _ecto_-echo."

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At that point Sam had quickly claimed fatigue, and the Fentons had been ushered out.

Sam's parents were still around, of course, which posed a tricky problem. They wanted to be near their grandson after everything that had happened, after all. Danny predicted some interesting times up ahead, depending on how long replacements for Nathaniel's wrist band and playpen took to arrive. Danny _could _turn Nathaniel invisible, should he transform. But he had no way to stop him 'going ghost' without that equipment.

And Nathaniel spontaneously disappearing would be…er. Danny wasn't sure Sam could think of an explanation for that one.

At the moment though, it was just Sam, himself, and Nathaniel…and Officer Higgsworth, _still_ filling out the paper work. Just maybe, if they worked things right, Jazz wouldn't have to take that defensive driving course after all. Even if she _did _get clocked doing one hundred and sixteen miles per hour on the highway.

Danny kind of wished he 'd _seen _that.

In any case, everyone knew the truth about what had happened. Roughly.

Well…they blamed it all on the Box Ghost, anyway. And _boy _did that feel good. Danny was still seething on multiple levels from the sheer brainlessness it required for someone to make off with a playpen _still containing a small child_.

_That's right Officer Higgsworth. Mom, Dad. Blame the Box Ghost._

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Author's note: So. Ahaha. :D Shall be updating again soon. (Aaaand for any of you wondering if I'd dropped off the earth, I'm in the last year of my degree. I still think and write on this frequently- just randomly and not in solid blocks of time. Which makes updating tricky, because I need those solid blocks of time, apparently...)_  
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	31. Handwritten Letters

Author's Note: So the semester work load, prior to a few weeks ago, was like a monkey on my back...until it morphed into King Kong and stole me up the nearest tower until I finished all required tests and projects. Then I got sick. I haven't thrown up in years...and hope not to throw up again for many, many more years. -_- Ewwuurgh.

So anyway, here's the next chapter! Woo! And Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I really wish this were more season appropriate. My apologies ahead of time...^^; Seriously though, hahhhh, it's a lovely time of year, IMO. :)

Er, also...**Shout Outs! ** I haven't done this in eons!

**Thank you to Extant, Super-Berry, E-Dantes, Jiece18, Anthiena, Just ME, and YumeTakato for reviewing! You guys rock! :D**

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**Chapter Thirty-One**

**Handwritten Letters  
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Three days had passed since the kidnapping crisis. During that time Nathaniel had embraced his new found control over flight, and had also phased out twice.

Thankfully, he had yet to turn invisible or throw an ecto blast.

Even so, Danny was staying in Sam's bedroom around the clock. His altruistic plan to stay nearby (on Sam's roof) had quickly proved impossible. Nathaniel was a halfa through and through, and without the playpen or wrist band available Danny was the only person who could contain him. Keeping a close enough eye on the kid also meant Danny had been foregoing sleep- but then letting Nathaniel float through the wall, even _once_, wasn't an option.

Nathaniel, ironically, had been very quiet and well behaved, and practically indistinguishable from any other human kid...for several hours the morning after his kidnapping, anyway. Then any lasting clinginess had quickly disappeared, and he had led Danny (the best playmate ever!) on multiple flights around Sam's room.

Nathaniel was learning to control his powers _scarily _fast. Danny tried not to think of what life could be like when the kid reached his terrible twos. He probably _would _be throwing ecto blasts by then.

Danny had gotten better at certain ghostly abilities himself, specifically at splitting his form, and had been using the skill to put in convincing appearances at home. But holding onto two bodies simultaneously and doing much of anything with either- like holding a conversation- was still very trying, so his double avoided things like walking and talking. Danny needed his focus on Nathaniel.

At the moment Danny was sitting on Sam's bed, with Nathaniel in his lap. Sam sat a few feet away, carefully opening a box with a 'VP' insignia on the top. It had just arrived, and likely contained the promised replacements for the playpen and wrist band. This meant Danny would, hopefully, have the option to fly back home for a few hours of sleep, once the new equipment was set up.

No one had questioned using the replacements. After seeing Vlad covered in his own blood- of both the human _and _ghostly variety- it was clear that he was protective of Nathaniel in his own screwball way. Besides, he had also been heading back toward the _Fenton _portal that night. It appeared that Vlad had no plans to secret Nathaniel away somewhere, after all.

Not for a while, anyway.

Sam, having opened the box, set it down beside her on the bed. She picked up a folded, plain piece of copier paper from inside. It had to be a message from the cheese head himself, so she scooted closer to Danny in order to read it with him.

Nathaniel, very curious, paid close attention to what she held, and made to reach for the paper. He didn't try too hard, though, able to sense the grownups' mood. They were observant and quiet right now, so he would be too. For such a young child, he was very good at observing.

Sam unfolded the paper to reveal a short letter in somewhat messy handwriting.

Danny's whole body went rigid.

That _writing…!_

The temptation hit Danny hard to grab the letter away from Sam and tear it to pieces, burn it, _destroy _it. Instead he skimmed it frantically, terrified of reading something dangerously, sinisterly private, at which point he _would _snatch it away, never _mind _what Sam might think…

"_Sam, _

_About the new item- it's a portable ghost shield. Just stick it in a wall socket in your room, make sure the light goes on, and turn the knob to adjust the shield size. The shield is shaped like a bubble, but if it hits a wall, it will conform to it. It's practically invisible, so only you guys and maybe my parents should be able to pick it out, probably._

_If the power in your house goes out, the shield should last about two hours- just make sure the green button on top is depressed, because otherwise it will turn off when it isn't plugged in. About that, this _is _portable, meaning you can take it with you in an emergency so you're always inside an active ghost barrier. Just remember it will run out of juice. If that happens, the wall socket should charge the back-up unit to full power in about half an hour._

_So to sum up, just have Danny walk through the walls in ghost mode a few times to make sure the shield's working right, and it's covering the whole room. And if you can, keep it plugged in all the time. As for the other stuff, Vlad says it works the same as before."_

The phrase '_my parents' _stuck in Danny's mind. It felt like a four letter word, offensive and vulgar. And it dashed any remote hope of Sam _not _recognizing the handwriting.

But there was nothing else. Nothing dangerous.

Still, Danny's nerves, calm only moments ago, were now raw. Seeing _that _handwriting…

_My handwriting_.

What was Sam thinking, as _she _read…?

Danny found he couldn't even look in her direction, and stared down at the letter instead. That scrap of paper had thrown him back months in time, to when his guilt had been overwhelming, when he couldn't be near Sam because_ there just couldn't be any way she could stand to be near him..._

It was an incredible struggle, to bring himself back. To put things in perspective and understand that he...he had worked this _out_ already, damn it.

_No. Damn **you**._

Dan's face wouldn't leave his mind's eye. And he was smiling, _smirking_ at him...

It was one thing, for Danny to move forward from Clockwork's horrifying words. It was another to think of Dan _telling_ everyone, maybe in a letter like this...

"Well…_that _will be useful." Sam's voice filtered through, and Danny started slightly. He managed to tear the frown away just as she looked up at him. He swallowed, and tried for a smile. It wouldn't come.

She was grinning slightly. "And _you'll _sleep better at night." _That _was a joke- a jab at his midnight vigils up on the roof, before Nathaniel got kidnapped. The last few days, of course, Danny hadn't slept at all.

"Yeah." He only gave Sam a brief glance, before looking down at Nathaniel instead. He just...felt painfully shy right now. He was aware that they were both on her bed, with that _letter_ between them. Danny made himself focus on Nathan's left hand, currently held in his own. It was so tiny.

He wanted to ask Sam about the letter. Did it upset her? But the words stuck in his throat. He didn't feel he had the right, as those thoughts from months ago tried to push him down...and that feeling keeping his eyes down _wasn_'t shyness. It was that guilt he'd worked so hard to let go of...

Sam poked him in the arm, playfully. Her voice was a little too bright. "You definitely need to catch some zees, Danny."

_I'm making her worry._

That made Danny react, and he finally met her eyes, managing to raise his eyebrows and give her a genuine half smile. "Yeah. I guess this _is_ what I've been waiting for..." He couldn't keep the uncertainty from his voice.

Then his temper flared. _Maybe that__'s because it was freaking __**Dan Phantom **__who sent this…_

Of course, he knew that whether Dan was a current danger, and whether or not Vlad had seemingly turned a new page...Spectra and Bertrand _were_ a legitimate worry. Vlad probably hadn't "taken care" of them permanently in his fight over Nathaniel. Danny actually hoped Vlad _didn_'t kill them just because...that was a frightening thought. But mostly, it struck him as unlikely. Stronger ghosts were _hard_ to kill: after the nuke hit, you'd have two things. Cockroaches and Spectra.

It would probably be hard to tell the difference.

Sam broke into his thoughts again. "Let's install this thing. Watching you walk into invisible walls is _always _entertaining." She was already up, ghost shield in hand.

Danny's brows drew together for a moment. Then he remembered. Dan had _suggested_ that in the letter.

"Yeah, oodles of fun…" _My older self probably finds it hilarious too._

Sam _had _to know who the letter was from, but her lighthearted reaction was so off putting. She shouldn't _trust_ something that came in the mail from _him_. Danny just...couldn't _say_ so out loud. His throat wouldn't work when he tried.

Danny hesitated for a moment, then stood up, shifting Nathaniel so that he straddled his hip. He watched, silent, as Sam crouched down near a wall socket to plug in the ghost shield, which immediately lit up. It looked like a night light, and even had a plasticky Casper-esque ghost shielding the bulb.

Danny was sure Vlad's insignia could be found somewhere on it, not to mention a tracking device. Maybe it even had a hidden camera, and Vlad could see Danny's grimace right now.

Which would mean _Dan_ could see it too.

The thought was like a lightning bolt, and Danny was instantly furious. He tamped down on the feeling immediately, gritting his teeth. Dan watching Sam in her _bedroom?_

Danny took a deep breath, employing monumental self-control, and shoved the thought away. There was no way in hell he could let Sam know what he was thinking, _not _when she had been using this equipment since _Idaho_.

Besides, she made a point of always being decent before she came out of the bathroom- probably since he was around so much.

Danny's thoughts stuttered as he felt a cold wave of energy move briefly through him. The shield. It left his skin tingling slightly. Nathaniel let out a tiny exclamation, having felt it too, and shifted in his arms. Danny quickly walked over to Sam, to hand him over to her.

He nearly said _something_ when he reached her, nearly argued against the safety of using this device.

But the previous thought resurfaced: Sam had been relying on Vlad's help for months now. Knowing that Dan had a hand in it didn't change that. And Sam had just read a letter _in Danny's handwriting_, for crying out loud, yet was still setting up this new gadget, no questions asked.

For a crazy second Danny thought Sam might _really _be confused, and think the letter _was _from him, and not from his older psycho double.

"Danny?" She was staring up at him, still crouched by the wall socket, probably wondering why he was standing just behind her staring off into space.

He wiped the distressed look off his face.

"Here…," then he cleared his throat, lightened his tone, "you'd better take Nathaniel."

Sam turned completely around, sitting down Indian style as she did, and set Nathaniel in her lap. Nathan was still curious about what was going on, so immediately twisted around to face out toward Danny. He stared up at him, looking rather serious. Sam looked up too, and grinned again.

"Maybe I should call Tucker over, he likes to see you run into walls too…"

Danny crossed his arms, grinning back, while not quite catching her eyes. "Who said I was staying _visible _for this?" With that he blinked out of sight, going ghost in the process. He dropped the grin, and a glower descended.

Sam obviously knew who the letter was from. But he just..._wouldn't _think about that right now. _Get out of my head, you cretin._

He turned around and started walking, hands held out in front of him. As he did so, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Nathaniel had turned to look at the bedroom door, probably expecting someone to be there.

Smart kid. Danny always disappeared when family showed up, after all.

_Woah_…

"Found it." Danny's fingertips tingled from the brief contact. The shield didn't hurt, but it wasn't pleasant either. The sensation helped, for an instant, to remove the face of his enemy from his mind. "It's definitely a ghost barrier." _Whatever else it might be_. "Nathan's going to _hate _this…"

Nathaniel hadn't tried to phase _through _anything so far, other than Danny. But brushing up against the shield in ghost mode, phased out or not, wouldn't feel so great. And the shield had to cover the floor, of course, to be effective. Danny thought he could feel a hint of that energy coming up through his shoes.

He reached down to double check…yep. "Don't let him go barefoot in here, Sam…at least if he's not wearing the wrist band."

"Oh…! Right." He heard Sam shift slightly, probably pulling Nathaniel further into her lap.

Nathaniel probably wouldn't like the reappearance of the wrist band, either. His commentary, over the last few days, had often run something like this:

...o...

_"Dandan…?" Nathaniel was floating near the ceiling. "Heehee!" _

_Danny followed him up. _

_"See?" Nathan executed a surprisingly good mid-air turn, to get away, and Danny just missed catching him (on purpose). "No! Mismeeeehee!" _

_Nathaniel had a new favorite phrase, just for Danny. "Too swow!"_

_...o...  
_

That had been... that was earlier _today_. Danny blinked slowly, as the world went slightly blurry at the edges.

_Sorry kiddo. Hate to let you down, but I need sleep._

But the thought of leaving twisted in his gut, and the anxiety he felt while reading Dan's letter rose again, threatening to envelope him. His hands dropped, clenched at his sides.

Could he really _trust _this to work right? To be _nothing _more than a ghost shield? Yet the last few days had made clear just how hard life would be without Vlad's help…without...the thought made his stomach turn to lead...his evil older self's..._help_...

Danny's thoughts went hazy as a wave of fatigue hit him. Then they scattered away, leaving all the fear and worry, burying him…

And he was suddenly swimming in a confusing montage of events from the last several days, their combined undertow dragging him further down…

The image of Dan dozing by Vlad's bed came to him; then he saw Vlad in the Ghost Zone, covered in blood; then Dan, holding Nathaniel; Sam, stunning in that dark, beautiful dress; Jazz at the restaurant, yelling that Dan had _sent _for his help…

_A room filled with the smell of blood. Too __**much **__blood. Intense fear. Vlad's pinched, drained face._

Then that dark place blurred_…_

_Danny was sitting in a chair by Vlad's bed. He was leaning back with his feet propped up on another chair, a copy of Business Weekly open in his hands. But he wasn't reading, wasn't even looking at it. His thoughts were on Vlad, and the last few days. He allowed himself to feel happy, grateful to be sitting here watching over the Cheese Head, instead of attending his funeral._

_And he kept thinking of that strange encounter a few days ago, when his younger self had shown up. Had he realized just how _close _Vlad had come to…_

"...oohh, Earth to Danny…?"

Danny stumbled, then caught himself.

He was…he was standing. In Sam's _bedroom_…in front of the ghost barrier. Still invisible.

_Not me. _

_That was__…__**him**__. _

_**Not me**__._

"Sorry…zoned out." He spoke too soon. His voice was hardly more than a frightened whisper.

_**What happened?**_

Sam didn't answer for a very long moment. Then she snorted. "Either that, or you chose a really _weird _time to ponder the meaning of the universe."

She wasn't going to ask. But he…he _needed _to pull it together, _now_, before Sam changed her mind. Danny struggled to push down his dread. The images were almost gone, like a dream…but the thoughts and emotions lingered, intimate yet alien. After a long moment, he finally forced himself to reach out with a trembling hand, to find the edge of the shield again. He barely ghosted along it with his fingers.

Danny swallowed, and closed his eyes. They snapped open almost instantly, when the fear rose of what he might see with them closed. He stared at the faint glimmer the barrier gave off in front of him instead.

He forced his voice steady. "Okay…keep going, slowly…"

The next half hour was trial and error, as they got the shield to sit against every wall, the floor, and the ceiling. It really _did _conform, its bubble shape flattening out as it found the right kind of surface. For whatever reason it seemed to move through objects sitting in the room- presumably it had been programmed, somehow, to recognize a real wall when it hit one.

Danny forced himself to focus, _obsessively_, on how incredible the engineering behind that had to be.

The shield could also cover the bathroom, though that meant keeping the bathroom door open, since the shield perceived the closed door as a wall. Conversely, the window could be opened. The shield would form a bulb which bulged about two feet out at the open window's center, as far as they could tell.

Sam _did _get to see Danny walk into the thing once, before everything was said and done.

"Awesome." Sam was sitting on the bed again, with Nathaniel cuddled up beside her. Nathan had been mostly quiet, only adding his baby-speak opinion occasionally, and laughing when Sam did. She had made this about as fun as it could be for him.

Danny, thoughts having turned muzzy after going human again, slowly wandered back to the bed, and let himself fall face down on it a few feet away from Sam and Nathaniel. Slowly, he turned his head so that he wasn't breathing into the coverlet, though he hardly had the energy at the moment. Now was the first time in three days he _didn't _have to be ready to move, should Nathaniel spontaneously go ghost, and, as if knowing this, his body was trying to shut down.

Danny's mind, just now, was thankfully blank. If he wasn't so completely drained, it would have been a nice feeling. He watched, blearily, with his eyes barely cracked open, as Nathaniel pulled away from Sam to crawl over. Once there, Nathan kept going, climbing up onto Danny's shoulders, then scooching this way and that, until he finally sat with a leg resting on either side of Danny's neck.

Then two little hands tugged lightly on Danny's available ear, and a bright, high pitched voice piped up.

"Wha's _up_?"

Danny closed his eyes as Nathaniel bounced up and down a little on his shoulders. _Not me, kiddo. _

"Muh." A grunt was all he could manage. He opened his eyes a little wider, as he noticed Sam looking at them.

_Click_.

Danny blinked at the flash of light, just noticing the camera in Sam's hands.

He raised a drowsy eyebrow, and the thought percolated through: where did that even _come_ from?

He got out a muffled comment. "Blckmel?"

Sam raised a not so innocent eyebrow, as if to say "maybe." Then she grinned, and laughed. "Nope." Her smile turned a little shy. "You guys are just…cute."

Danny raised both eyebrows at that, and Sam blushed slightly. "_Hey_! Even I have the urge, _very _rarely, to take…cute pictures…sometimes..."

Danny shifted slightly, so his mouth was completely free from the coverlet. "Blackmail…for _Nathan_."

"Danny!" Then Sam pursed her lips, reconsidering. "Maybe when he's a teenager."

Half a moment ticked by, followed by a snort from Sam.

Then they were both laughing. It died down pretty fast. Danny hadn't slept in days, after all.

"I can't believe you took that seriously." Danny was completely limp, Nathan still laughing from the joke he didn't get, on top of Danny's shoulders.

"You _thought _of it…" Sam leaned back, taking her weight on the palms of her hands, elbows locked. Her grin slowly drifted to a smile, and she let her head rest sideways, against her right shoulder. She sighed.

"You should go home and get some sleep." Sam paused, her head coming back up like she was going to sneeze, then yawned wide. Danny's eyelids fluttered just watching her.

"Dnno. Here seems pretty comftrble." Nathaniel gave another tug at Danny's ear. "Hey. Ease up, kiddo. I like my ears on my head." Danny impulsively reached over his head, pulling Nathaniel onto the bed next to him, then rolled himself over so he was on his back, and pulled the toddler back onto his chest, propping him up. Nathaniel giggled and laughed, happy to face Danny head on.

"You little rug rat." Danny tugged lightly at Nathaniel's ears, grinning impishly, then let his hands fall down again, as the momentary surge of energy deserted him.

A painful wave of depression replaced it. It came out the blue, catching Danny at his most defenseless, and he had to rest an arm over his face, to cover the agony there.

_A minute ago I was __**laughing**__…_

But it was always like that lately, especially when he was tired. Too happy one moment…he'd swing the other way fast, violently.

Nathaniel leaned forward to get his attention back the best way possible, by grabbing and poking at his face. Nathan was still oblivious. Danny hoped Sam was too.

"_Seepy_-head!" Danny reached up to blindly ruffle Nathan's hair, his face twisting more as he did so.

He didn't even know _why_.

A dozen things crowded in his mind, as an answer to that question. Oh, there were reasons. Reasons, reasons, reasons…starting with a ghost who sent a letter in _his _hand, laid claim to _his _parents…who had fathered this beautiful child _with Sam_.

A spike of misery hit Danny, and before he knew it he had clenched his fists in pain, as if he'd taken a physical blow right to the face.

And the image of Vlad sleeping came to him again, as he himself had sat with a magazine he'd never _read _before set open on his knees…

_How the hell did I know that was Business Weekly, anyway?_

_**THAT WASN'T ME!**_

He gasped quietly to himself, thoughts scattered, suddenly terrified and lost. He couldn't do this, he _couldn't do this_, with Nathan and Sam right _here_…he couldn't _melt down _in front of them…!

He struggled with the fear, instant by instant, but as he got it cornered a subtle fury took its place. And the confusion was still there, his thoughts still scattered.

They jumped to Jazz, at the restaurant a few nights ago, when she had come explaining Nathaniel's disappearance, and to tell him that Dan was already _searching_ in the Ghost Zone.

And she had urged him to jump in and help, _hurry_, _Spectra is so dangerous_…

Spectra, _hell_!

_What the hell about __**Dan**__, Jazz?_

Danny absolutely _knew _her attitude didn't make sense. He _knew _something was going on. Jazz had been _communicating _with _him_.

How could she have all that worry about ghosts he himself could beat around the block, and _none _about the guy who had attacked Sam, had tried to _kill _them all a few years ago? Danny had felt guilty for yelling at Jazz that night, but right now he felt justified. He felt like yelling some more.

_What did he __**tell **__you, Jazz?_

"Daaannnnnnnnnny?" Nathaniel's voice had gone from playfully insistent to slightly worried.

Guilt Danny hadn't felt a moment ago belatedly hit him. It drew him back, made him sane again, and the red hot anger was temporarily doused.

He forced himself to relax, and slowly, slowly let his arms drop so that he wasn't blocking Nathaniel's view of his face any more. But he _couldn't _make himself meet the kid's eyes just yet. He needed to get better control first.

Danny's brows knit together.

The bastard was living with _Vlad_, of all people! Psycho and _fruit _loop, scheming!

Danny sat up suddenly, carrying Nathaniel with him, and tucked the kid under his chin, hiding his bitter scowl from sight. He sighed slowly, trying to expel the anger as he did so.

It took Danny a while to slow his breathing down again, but he did it. He also put conscious effort into making sure he didn't clench anything, other than his jaw, since he held a small, trusting child in his arms.

Danny belatedly realized that Sam hadn't said anything in quite a while. He glanced at her sidelong, shame coloring his cheeks. No good. She seemed too still, and observant. He forced himself to turn to face her, embarrassed and a little afraid of what she had to be thinking. He was being completely _erratic_…

Sam was watching him, her face strangely expressionless. It was a mask, probably hiding distress, worry; whatever had likely been there a moment before he had looked at her.

Danny glanced down at the bedspread, feeling tired, and guilty. She _shouldn't _have to worry about him going crazy on her.

He finally spoke, voice a little desperate, searching for words. "_Sam_…I'm…"

"Stop." Sam gave him a small, tired smile, and held her arms out for Nathaniel. "You need _sleep_, Danny." Her eyes bored into his. "Take a break. For at _least _for a few hours. Then…play some video games. Eat something I didn't have to _smuggle up _to you. And _don't _worry about me or Nathan. Don't worry about _anything_. Okay?"

Danny swallowed, a slight lump in his throat. It was _hard _to do that. And he'd been about to apologize to her, when he'd promised not to do _that_, either. Part of him still wanted to finish that apology.

"I…_okay_." He gave her a shaky smile. "I'm not _promising _anyth…"

"_Yes _you _are_!" Sam glared at him, exasperation showing through. "Go _home_, already. You've done enough for one _decade_, Mr. Superhero."

Danny blushed, then gave her a cheeky grin. "Yes _ma'am_."

Sam smirked, eyes narrowed slightly. Then her expression changed completely. She was excited and happy and afraid…and before he knew what to think she was moving closer and leaning up, until their faces were so _close_...and suddenly their lips met.

He watched as she drew back, her cheeks bright pink. It had only been a peck, but _still_…

"We…never got to finish our date." Sam was grinning, and shyly avoided his gaze. She held her arms up for Nathaniel again, and Danny handed him over, wide-eyed.

Sam finally looked back up, eyes sparkling, a soft smile still on her lips. "Get some sleep, Danny." Her smile widened. "Before you start hallucinating ghost attacks."

Danny snorted softly, surprised when he did. But it _was _funny.

And Sam had just kissed him. On the _lips_.

And somehow, for this instant, his dark thoughts were gone. He was in the here and now. And…maybe things weren't so bad...

He grinned. "Yeah. You know what? I think you're right. It's time I got some sleep." Except he felt strangely energized right now.

Danny stood up, still grinning, and took one of Nathaniel's hands, shaking it gently. "Bye-bye little man. Take care of your mom." He glanced up, into Sam's eyes, and a small thrill of joy went through him. She was still blushing. Then he stood up straight, gave her a mock salute, and turned to fly…

"Er, _wait_!"

Danny stopped mid jump, caught by surprise. Then he got it.

They spoke simultaneously: "_Ghost _shield." Danny's palm hit his forehead.

He snuck out the bedroom door instead.

* * *

Apparently replacements from Vlad had finally arrived, because Danny was now home, and refreshed from a long overdue nap. He was also standing in Jasmine's bedroom doorway, with that _look _on his face. The one that said he wasn't there for a nice brotherly chat about the weather forecast.

This was not a good thing.

"_Okay _Jazz, no more stalling. You took a shower, brushed you teeth, did all the _other _stuff you do at night...so unless you're planning to run out and get a _perm_, it's time for us to talk."

_Sorry Danny, I _do_ have to get a perm..._

Jazz doubted there were any hair stylists available right now. And Mom and Dad had been asleep for over an hour, so the privacy excuse wouldn't work either.

She sighed, and turned her swivel chair away from the computer and fully toward Danny. She adopted a pleasant smile.

"Okay, I'm ready to talk." Whoops. Freudian slip. But who knew, maybe she was totally wrong about why Danny was bumming around in her doorway?

He stepped further in, and closed the door behind him. Jazz suppressed a sigh.

Then Danny glanced away, looking a little guilty. "Look…I'm sorry I yelled at you the other night, outside the restaurant. I shouldn't have." He caught her eye, and crossed his arms. "But I still need an explanation." He frowned. "First of all, why, at that point, would you _assume _he was trying to help?"

"The Box Ghost…"

"I don't care about the Box Ghost. And _don't _tell me you were going to say _that's _why you thought Dan was trying to help, Jazz. Since when does the _Box _Ghost know who's trust worthy?"

Jazz's jaw snapped shut. There went _that _tangent. "You're right." She crossed her arms, looking down at the floor.

This was going to be hard. She was still reeling with what had been revealed to her in the Ghost Zone two nights ago. It was all just…_so_…

There wasn't a word. Frightening? Outlandish? Deep down, the skeptic in her still held that none of it was necessarily true.

But then she'd blown off her parents' theories about ghosts for most of her life too.

In any case, telling Danny everything she had learned was absolutely _not _an option. They just…were _not _ready for that conversation. Jazz needed more time to sort out her thoughts, and Danny…he _didn't _need to know she knew.

Besides, he would see her visit to Clockwork as a betrayal. Whatever else she told him, she _couldn't _tell him about that. But there _were _a few secrets she had been keeping, and there wasn't any reason not to tell him, now.

Jazz finally caught Danny's eyes. His look was so searching it made her think of mind reading. He probably wished he could.

"Danny…I need to show you something, I guess." Jazz sighed in pained resignation as she went to her purse, mildly embarrassed that it was partly an act, that she was hamming it up. The letter from Dan felt…strangely reasonable now. Nothing to be scared of anymore.

"Here." She pulled the envelope out, and turned to hand it to Danny. She would need to tell him about that phone call, too. "Sit down, Danny. It's a long letter."

Jazz watched as he pulled out the scrap of newspaper with a picture of Vlad and Dan on it. He stared for a long moment, then took out the letter, simultaneously walking over to sit on the edge of her bed.

Several minutes passed in silence as he read it. Jazz caught herself holding her breath at least twice, as she watched him and tried to guess what part of the letter he was on.

The letter had a lot in it. Dan had talked about living with Vlad, and becoming a business man- an _honest _one. With a human disguise, and a different name; Dimitri Mihailov. Or had that been in the newspaper scrap only?

He had talked about giving Sam a bank account, so she could do good for the world with the money he put there. Though he eventually _would _use it, if she never did. And he said how he loved them all…well, the whole _thing _had been about that. And about how sorry he was. And…how they didn't need to worry any more.

Jazz had a hard time guessing where Danny was in it, but as he read his hands started to tremble, just a little, and the grimace he had adopted early on grew worse.

Jazz spoke when she was sure he had read the whole thing more than once.

"I…wanted to give you time. You didn't need to _worry _about this, after everything…" She petered off, and looked down at her knees. His silence made her nervous. "If it's worth anything, Tucker wanted to tell you immediately…"

"Tucker _knows_?" Jazz glanced up, but Danny didn't meet her eyes. He looked shell shocked.

"I just…needed someone else to know. He _really _wanted to tell you, Danny. I basically twisted his wrist so he wouldn't."

"Twisted his wrist?" His voice sounded dead.

"Really hard. And begged. Pitifully."

Jazz heard him snort. She looked up, in time to see Danny look back down at the letter, then away from it, toward the floor. He looked strangely forlorn.

They both sat for a while. She had had hours to digest that letter, after all. He deserved at least a few more minutes to think.

And something made her hesitate. That nervous feeling asked her to wait, and to let Danny talk more when he was _ready_.

Jazz's thoughts wandered as the silence grew. She hadn't seen much of Danny over the last few days, since her visit to Clockwork. That was lucky, as she had desperately needed that time for herself. But now, as he sat in front of her, she found herself studying him, his face, his expressions. His tone when he spoke.

Small things were jumping out at her.

Their frown was just the same, his and Dan's. Somewhere in between a full blown scowl and a worried look, like…the _opposite _of a half smile. That expression had been on both their facesthe night Nathaniel went missing.

Except Dan had been more, yet also _less_, desperate than Danny. It was as though he really _knew _the devastation it would cause if Nathaniel were to die. Yet that same experience somehow gave him the ability to temper his emotions, and focus himself better.

Actually, Dan had shared something with Sam: a steely determination to get it _right_, at all costs.

Danny had been panicking. Dan had moved _beyond _panic.

"You know, I'm not even surprised." Jazz started violently at the sound of Danny's voice. She looked up, blinking, her heart racing.

Danny blinked back at her once. "What were you thinking about just now?"

Jazz ran a hand over her hair. "I _wasn't_…I was zoning out." She grinned at him sheepishly. "I _actually _think I forgot you were here." Oh, she was such a liar.

"Are you sure _you're _getting enough sleep Jazz…?" Jazz kept grinning, and Danny finally smiled too. Then his smile wavered, and fell away completely. His eyes became darker, sadder again. It was painful to watch.

"I'm sorry I lied, Danny. I just…"

"I know." He sounded sad, and very young. He was still a kid to her, just a teenager, and he'd just caught his big sister in a big lie. The betrayal in his voice wasn't something she could mistake. That little kid in him desperately needed someone to depend on, someone who _wouldn't _lie to him.

Jazz got up, and came over to sit next to Danny on the bed. She put her arms around him in a sideways embrace, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm really, _really _sorry Danny." She blinked rapidly, thinking of all the things he'd been through, the things Clockwork had told him that he kept hidden from everyone.

Danny let out a slow sigh. "It's…okay." His arm came up to circle around her shoulders, a heavy, welcome warmth. He had grown big. "It's okay."

She let out a shuddering sigh, and a tear escaped. "I…have something else to tell you. It won't make you very happy, though."

There was a pause where he tensed, then relaxed. Another quiet sigh. "Go ahead."

"Someone called me on the phone last semester. We didn't…talk about anything much. Mostly he let _me _talk, actually. About school. I…" She swallowed, fear closing her throat.

This came so close to the heart of things, it terrified her. What she had learned still felt alien, surreal, and made her skin crawl.

She dragged the words out. "I…thought he was you. He…he pretended to _be _you." Jazz looked up at him. "Danny…I couldn't tell."

She could see he was angry. She went on, feeling flustered, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I thought I would know, and just be able to _tell _if it was him, but I couldn't…"

"How did you find out, then?" Accusation. He blamed her for not knowing the difference.

"I put it together when the letter came a few weeks ago. And…I realized…"

"You _realized_…? What?" His voice was part growl.

But she _needed _to say this.

"I realized he is…he's more than just…a ghost."

Danny's arm dropped away, and after a long moment Jazz risked another glance at his face. It was hard, his jaw clenched. He was staring adamantly at the wall.

"He's not _you_. But he's still, he's almost like…" She couldn't finish, and ended up not getting the chance in any case.

Danny stood straight up. "Like what? _What_? Like _family_? Like your _brother?"_

Then he strode to the door, opened it, stepped out, and slammed it behind him, not looking back at her once.

* * *

Author's Note: Please review! *cough* Anyone else think the ghost shield light socket thingy is suspiciously cute? :P


	32. Therapy Can Be a Good Thing Part One

Authors Note: I've been editing this thing to death. At this point it's probably much worse than it originally was, ironically. This is part one of a two part chapter, so the next update will only be a few days to a week away. Also: this was hard to write. That doesn't mean it's well written, but there was stuff in here that represented a huge hump I needed to get past in this story. (Eh...if you haven't noticed, I've been really slow about updating. -_-)

I need to give a special thank-you to E-Dantes, for reading through an earlier version of this, and giving great advice- plus, for not running away screaming. Thank you, my friend!

* * *

**Previous Chapter:**

"You _realized_…? What?" His voice was part growl.

But she _needed _to say this.

"I realized he is…he's more than just…a ghost."

Danny's arm dropped away, and after a long moment Jazz risked another glance at his face. It was hard, his jaw clenched. He was staring adamantly at the wall.

"He's not _you_. But he's still, he's almost like…" She couldn't finish, and ended up not getting the chance in any case.

Danny stood straight up. "Like what? _What_? Like _family_? Like your _brother?"_

Then he strode to the door, opened it, stepped out, and slammed it behind him, not looking back at her once.

* * *

**Chapter 32, Part 1  
**

**A Little Therapy Can Heal the Soul**

* * *

"Hey Jazz." Sam let the older girl slip in through her bedroom door, closing it after her.

"Hey." Jazz gave her a weirdly sheepish grin.

The grin brought out Jazz's resemblance to Danny, but since Jazz was such an incredibly confident person the semi-apologetic look felt, well..._weird_. Of course, Jazz had also apparently timed her surprise visit to occur when both Danny and Tucker were busy, which suggested she was here for something more serious- and private- than a friendly _chat_. So maybe the uncomfortable look was warranted. Or Sam was being a tad paranoid: the latest fiasco, with Nathaniel getting whisked away to the Ghost Zone, had only happened last week, after all.

Jazz broke the brief silence. "Thanks for letting me come over, Sam."

"No problem." Sam smiled tentatively. She gestured for Jazz to follow, and searched for something to say to relieve the somewhat tense atmosphere as they they headed over to the sitting chairs by her bedroom window. "I'm glad you're here. I...don't exactly get a lot of girl time."

That elicited a genuine smile from Jazz. Their relationship was positive and relatively strong, but had never been established as something separate from Danny. Girl time definitely suggested an upgrade.

But almost immediately that sheepish grin was back again, and as they both sat Jazz glanced around in a way that struck Sam as downright nervous. Her eyes landed on the playpen. "So...where's Nathaniel?"

Sam nodded slightly toward the playpen, as if to confirm Jazz's unspoken guess. "He's asleep. Out like a rock."

Jazz's voice came out in a surprised chirp. "_Wow_. He was so noisy earlier!" That had only been fifteen minutes ago, when Jazz had called asking to come over.

Sam smiled lopsidedly, hopeful that the older girl was starting to relax. "Yeah...he goes from hyperactive to crashed out most afternoons."

Jazz smiled back, but the moment was gone and the look was clearly forced. "Um, so...how's the little guy liking the new setup?"

Okay_...Jazz_ was searching for small talk! That was just _wrong_. She never spent this long being uncertain about...practically _anything_ these days. Jazz might mull things over, take her time to decide about something- but sitting around being awkward like this just wasn't in her nature. It probably meant one thing: that she really _was_ here about something serious- and something hard for her to talk about. There weren't many subjects like that for Jazz.

Sam let out a silent sigh. She honestly liked Danny's sister, which hadn't been the case a few years back. Over time Jazz had become Sam's proof that being feminine, popular, and wearing preppy clothes _didn't_ by default make you shallow, ditsy, or boy obsessed. And conversely, being a Goth (not that Sam had pushed the Goth thing lately) didn't make you a satan worshiper, or a high school drop-out.

Sam had learned that it took a long time to know someone well at all, and Jasmine Fenton was someone _worth_ getting to know well. So if Jazz needed a little small talk to help her calm down and feel welcome, well...Sam could totally do that. Besides, Nathaniel was an _awesome_ subject.

"Nathan _loves_ the freedom." Sam grinned, and got up to head toward the playpen. "You should see the _look_ on his face when I pull out the wristband! I hardly use it now. With the shield, he can literally bounce off the walls if he wants..." Sam petered out, doing a double take as she glanced back at Jazz, who was following her.

"Jazz?"

Jazz was mildly appalled, but wiped the look off her face, and lowered her eyes to look at Sam's still very _small_ child, instead. "Er...nothing." _Never mind about how...__**really**__ unsafe that sounds! It's time to get to the point, Jazz._

Sam was about to continue on about Nathaniel when she caught the serious, inwardly focused look on Jazz's face. It pulled Sam up short. The older girl was broadcasting the need for silence, so Sam decided to give it to her. Whatever Jazz had really come here for- she was preparing to say it.

Sam studied her son as she waited for her. Nathaniel was fast asleep, splayed out, with one arm circled around a plushie that looked just like a shiny universal remote control; a gift Tucker had picked up for him a few weeks ago. It was ridiculous, and completely adorable. Nathaniel obviously liked it.

Sam tilted her head, smiling softly. There was something deeply relaxing about watching her son sleep. He wasn't dreaming right now; there was only his quiet, regular breathing, and an inherent trust in the safety of the world around him...

Then Jazz took a deep breath as if to speak, and Sam steeled herself, prepared to hear about something that might damage the safety of that world- not that she could truly pretend that Nathaniel had _ever_ been safe.

"The truth is, there's something I need to talk to you about...you know, while Danny's at work."

Sam looked up. "Yeah?"

Jazz's eyes were serious. Those nerves of steel had finally returned, though a hint of _something_ lingered. "Has Danny told you about any unusual letters lately?"

Sam's mind shifted gears almost instantly, as she thought of the note from Dan that had come with the playpen's replacements a few days ago. Her protectiveness, already touched off, shifted from Nathaniel to Danny. He had been so incredibly upset after reading that little note...

"Well, we..._both_ read the note together that came a few _days_ ago."

Jazz paused, caught by surprise. "_What_ note?"

Sam stared at her for a moment, nonplussed. She had assumed that Jazz had talked to Danny, and that maybe he had opened up to her about that note- and why it made him so upset. Which would have meant that Jazz was here to tell Sam about something _he_ had said that Jazz felt _she_ needed to know about, but that Danny didn't _want_ her to know about...or not, obviously.

Sam wasn't even sure why she had assumed all that, come to think of it.

She answered Jazz's question. "Instructions came a few days ago. With the replacements?" Sam tapped the top of the playpen lightly to make her point. "I thought maybe Danny told you because they were written by...Dan."

Jazz stared at her. "Oh..."

"Here..." Sam walked to her desk, opened a drawer, rummaged, and headed back over after a moment with a folded piece of paper.

"This is the only letter _I_ know about and like I said, it's more...just a set of instructions." Sam handed it to Jazz, one eyebrow raised. "You probably guessed from how he helped in the Ghost Zone, but if not...it's pretty clear that Dan's living with Vlad now. Danny even went to check on Vlad earlier, and...um." Sam dropped off to let Jazz read the note, and headed back to her chair to sit down again. As she waited for Jazz, Sam tried not to brood...noticeably.

Jazz tailed slowly after her. She finally sat as well, glancing between Sam and the note.

"Danny went to visit Vlad?"

"Yeah. _Really_ early in the morning, after we got Nathaniel back. To check on him, I think." Sam raised a sardonic eyebrow. "He didn't exactly _tell_ me. I asked him about Vlad later that day. I had a feeling, because...I noticed that Danny left for a while. He...said Vlad was okay." Sam frowned softly, a faraway look in her eyes. "But he...something _really_ threw him off. I think he saw Dan there too."

Jazz sat silent for a long moment, thinking. "Sam, I know I'm Danny's big sister, but you read him better than anybody." _You would've held off on telling him about the letter, unlike me..._

Something in Jazz's voice caught Sam's ear, and she looked at her for a moment, trying to read her. But Jazz wasn't looking up, instead choosing to keep her eyes on the note, now in her lap.

Sam gave up, and looked away, trying to fight the unhappy feeling that threatened to steal over her. "Well, if Dan _was_ at Vlad's, they didn't get into a _fight_, at least. That's an improvement." She propped one foot up on her chair as she had earlier, and rested her chin on her knee.

Jazz set the letter on the reading table beside her. "You sound like you want them to get along...Danny and Dan, I mean."

Sam looked out the window, to avoid eye contact. "I...suppose I do."

The quiet, emotionally distant tone in Sam's voice caused something to click in Jazz's mind. She suddenly remembered an important thing; something that she had been putting off for a long time because...

Because it was so hard to deal with. Just thinking about it caused her heart rate to pick up slightly, and turned her hands a little sweaty.

Ever since they had found Sam in Idaho and the story about her disappearance had come out, Jazz had promised herself that she _would_ talk to Sam about what had happened to her. Then she had struggled on and off to keep that promise. Jazz was just so _close_ to everything, and even though she was currently training to do just this: to _help_ people who had experienced trauma, _they_ would be patients. Strangers.

The meeting with Clockwork was looming in the back of her mind too; what she had learned about Dan. A nasty, almost overwhelming feeling came with it...

Jazz felt guilty. And for once, she refused to analyze why. It was enough to acknowledge that she was _afraid_ to talk with Sam about the trauma she had suffered. And that was shameful. How could she be such a coward, and at Sam's expense?

Who else did Sam have to _talk_ to? Her parents? No. Tucker? _Danny_? No, that was just...unimaginable.

Jazz couldn't run from this anymore. She _needed_ to set this right. It wasn't really why she had come here today, but then...she didn't know if she'd find the courage to do this again.

So she squared her shoulders, and looked Sam in the eye. Then immediately looked down at her hands instead.

_No. __**L**_**ook**_ at her, Jazz. _

Jazz looked up again. "Sam, I meant to say this a while back, and the...the opportunity never, kind of...arose. But I..." Jazz leaned over, putting her hand over Sam's. "If you need to talk about what...what happened to you, I _am_ here for you. It can be healing, and it might _help_ you to be..."

A wave of shock rippled through Sam, and Jazz felt the other girl's hand turn into a claw of tension, just before it was yanked away.

"_Woah_." Sam's voice was transformed, harsh with suppressed emotion. There was a long beat of painful silence. Jazz couldn't open her mouth, let alone speak. She was trapped by Sam's shocked, deeply offended stare.

"_Woah_. Just..._no_, Jazz." Sam finally looked away, her mouth a tight line.

Jazz somehow managed to find her voice again. It was desperate, and yes, sounded closer to tears than she wanted to admit. But she absolutely _had_ to say this, mortified or not.

Her words came out a mile a minute. "Look, Sam, I'm just saying that counseling has been shown to _help_ a lot with this kind of trauma, and that holding it in, or i-ignoring it and not _dealing_ with it can be _very_ b..."

Sam set her leg down with a thump, and leaned forward. Her voice was nearly a yell. "Is _that_ what you came here for? Because if it is I think you need to _leave_."

Jazz put her hands up placatingly, fingers shaking slightly from adrenaline, and sped up even more. "Sam, please, I'm _sorry_. I just felt you needed to know, if you _ever_ needed to talk about it, someone's here, a-another female, and I'm..."

Sam was standing over her now, hands balled into fists. "You're Danny's _sister_!"

Jazz hunched in her chair, hands still up. "I know..." Her voice petered out, and her face fell completely.

Sam's words sank in. _Wham_, the guilt slammed into Jazz like a physical blow.

"I'm..._sorry_ Sam. I'm so s-sorry..." Jazz didn't even know what she was saying anymore. She just knew she was horribly guilty. _Responsible_. _She _should have prevented it somehow; this was something she could've _fixed_, _somehow!_

Sam backed up suddenly, and started pacing violently back and forth. "You know...you _know_...!"

Jazz stared up at her, miserable, wiping at her already wet face. This wasn't supposed to _happen_. She wasn't supposed to be so _unprofessional_...

Sam finally rounded on her, tears in her eyes, yelling outright. "You're so _stupid_! You psychiatrist types are _ridiculous_! As if you talking it _out_ with me would help _anything_! You know _what_? _Congratulations_! You made me _cry_. Happy? That seems to be the main goal of everybody in your field- make your _victim_ feel _worse!_ Then you get to watch them in _pain_, smiling your creepy, oh-so-NOT _helpful_ smiles! Like you actually help _anything_! You're _parasites_!" Sam turned away, storming to the other side of the room, past Nathaniel's pen. She stood there, arms crossed, breathing heavily.

Jazz just sat, as what Sam just said reverberated in her mind. She didn't bother to wipe her face anymore, letting tears trail down it. She whimpered quietly to herself.

Minutes passed by. Slowly, slowly, they both got control over themselves.

Sam walked hesitantly back over. She looked down at Jazz, eyes red rimmed but dry.

"You're...not a parasite. At all."

Jazz stared up at her. Then she stood up, face crumpling, and hugged Sam to her. "I'm sorry Sam, I'm _so_ sorry..."

Sam let Jazz hug her. A moment passed, and Sam tried to say it was okay, that she didn't need to feel guilty. But Jazz sobbing away on her shoulder was doing something to her...

Before Sam realized what she was doing, before she could _begin_ to stop the flow...words began spilling out. Secrets. Dark moments, memories she never imagined sharing with _anyone_, and even thoughts she hadn't really acknowledged until _this moment_...

Suddenly _she_ was leaning on Jazz's shoulder, and it was the only thing keeping her standing. Sam buried her face there, hugging Jazz for dear life, and spoke through her tears, through a deep pain that caused her shoulders to quiver and shake.

She told about how terrified she'd been, how she had screamed and yelled and _nothing_ had helped. How fighting him was like fighting against a rock. There was _nothing_ you could do, _nothing_ someone that strong _couldn't_ do to you. How...

How, even terrified as she was, she still hadn't cried in outright fear, or begged. She had held on with _everything_ she had to her bravado, to her anger and indignation. She had been in denial to the bitter end that someone would save her, or that somehow he would stop, would realize he _had no right_...

But maybe, if she had given in and put her hands together, and _begged_ him not to...maybe..._maybe_ if she _had_...it would've gone differently.

And _she_ wouldn't feel so guilty now.

It was nonsensical. It was stupid, _pathetic_. To blame herself in _any_ way, as if- as if _her_ emotional state had been the real problem! But there it was. And now she was letting it all out on Jazz's shoulder.

By the time those last words came out, her voice was a choked whisper.

_ "...m-maybe if he'd only seen how terrified I was..._"

Finally, with that last thought voiced, the need to confess finally died. Sam clung to Jazz for another long minute, quietly crying herself out.

The understanding came slowly that there was absolutely no one else's shoulder she could've cried on. Not about this. It _couldn't_ be Tucker. It could_ not_ be _Danny_...

Sam's tears started up again; a new wave. Jazz began stroking her hair, almost like Sam's mother did sometimes. Maybe it was just something women instinctively did, but it made Sam feel better. She finally sighed, as the latest wave of tears began to die down.

Jazz spoke gently. "It's not your fault." She sniffled, and kept stroking Sam's hair. "It's _not_ your fault, Sam. Okay? It's...a really common thing, the victim feeling like they're the problem, like they did something wrong. No. It's _not your fault_. Don't second guess things. Maybe you could've spontaneously developed ghost powers and flown away, or you could've somehow been somewhere else, or..._whatever_. It's just...It doesn't matter. There's _always_ a what-if. But you _were_ powerless. Do you understand? There was _nothing_ you could have done. Nothing. And it _was not_ your fault." Jazz let out a long sigh. "Just like...it wasn't my fault."

She slowly stopped stroking Sam's hair. "Right?"

Sam stood for a long moment, her breathing still a little unsteady. But she finally pulled back, slowly, still holding onto Jazz's shoulders, and managed a shaky shrug, as if to say '_life, what can you do?' _Sam added an equally shaky smile, and pulled away a little more. She probably owed Jazz a new shirt, with all the crying she had just done, but for once didn't feel embarrassed about her tears.

She _needed_ this.

Before Sam could pull completely away, Jazz grabbed her hand, squeezing it.

"You know, if you ever need a hug, I'm here. Or just...a girl's day out." Jazz smiled, her gentle eyes shining through her wet eyelashes. "And, you know...I think _I_ need a lot of hugging, which is probably why I'm always offering them...so, really, any time..."

Sam couldn't stop the swell of emotion, and before she knew it she had Jazz in another tight hug, partly to hide the intense, pain filled smile stretched across her face.

_Thank you, Jazz._

Sam's voice still had a slight wobble when she finally spoke. "You...can _count_ on it."

They both broke apart after another long moment, and started wiping their faces. Sam rolled her eyes and broke into an embarrassed laugh. "Come on, let's get the salt out of our eyes."

* * *

Half an hour later saw them back in Sam's sitting chairs, each sipping a mug of hot cocoa. It was something neither girl drank very often, but the warmth and the sweet, rich taste was soothing and very welcome just then. Jazz now wore a dark, baggy, and very comfortable over sized t-shirt. It felt right, just like the cocoa.

For a few minutes they both sat enjoying their drinks in silence. It was amazing how the air had changed between them. There was no reason to fill that space with words just yet.

Sam found that incredibly comforting. It was one of those intangible qualities she had sought in people for years; someone she could share silence with. She had found that quality in Danny and Tucker. Now she had Jazz, too.

Sam let her eyes wander the room, as that thought settled. The emotional outpouring earlier did make her feel a little vulnerable now, but it was a subtle feeling, and mostly she felt surprisingly...cleansed. Lighter, as though a weight had been removed from her shoulders- one she hadn't realized until then that she had been carrying. She had Jazz to thank for that.

Sam knew they still needed to talk about the letter Jazz had mentioned earlier; it was the reason she had come over, and probably contained something Sam _needed_ to know. And yeah...maybe something that would also make their lives a little more dangerous.

But she didn't need to bring that up just yet. Maybe they could pretend for a few minutes that...this _was_ just girl time. Sam smiled softly, then remembered something in their conversation from earlier that had peaked her attention.

"Hey Jazz, what was with that look earlier?" Sam smiled, and quirked an eyebrow upward. "You know, when I was talking about Nathan liking the new set-up...?"

Jazz stared over, her already big eyes widening slightly. She had her legs curled up underneath her, and held her mug of cocoa in both hands, warming them with it.

"Oh, um...you mean when you mentioned him bouncing off the walls?" She sounded a little embarrassed.

"Yup. You looked pretty shocked." Sam didn't bother to keep the amusement out of her voice, "Go _ahead_, say it. You think I'm crazy."

There was a slight pause, then Jazz responded rather meekly. "Well...it's just he's so _tiny_." She looked down, into her mug. "He's not even a year old yet."

Jazz was obviously worried about this. Sam snorted softly, and decided to let her in on a little secret.

"Do you know what I was doing when you called today?"

Jazz smiled a little at the open, amused look on Sam's face. "No...but you sounded pretty strained..."

Sam's smile grew. "Okay, try to picture this, Jazz: I was on the bed, crouching, arms up, ready to _spring_ like some crazed volleyball player so I could keep Nathan _directly_ above me at _all_ times. Until he came close enough for me to safely _grab_, anyway..."

Jazz's eyes had gotten wide again.

It made Sam just a tad embarrassed. "What I mean is, I'm really _not_ okay with him bouncing off the walls...which he doesn't _really_ do, obviously. I mean, he gets a little shock if he touches a wall when he's in ghost mode..."

Jazz was biting her lip now, not exactly comforted by this knowledge. "But, when did he start flying, _any_way? I mean, if he can get up high, out of your reach...it just sounds so dangerous, what if he _changed_..."

Sam shrugged, her own fears about Nathaniel falling flaring up a little. "He's done some hovering before, kind of tentatively...but since the Ghost Zone...I don't know, maybe he got a lesson from Vlad, or something..." Sam glowered, then rolled her eyes, letting the aggravation go. Vlad had likely saved his _life_, after all. "Flying is just...a _game_ he plays with Danny. But now that he's not here all day and night, Nathan's trying to get _me_ to play..." Sam gave a slightly exasperated smile. "You don't know real fear until your infant is hovering just out of reach, eight feet off the ground, _giggling_ at you..."

Jazz frowned softly. "Don't you think you should use the wristband more...? Maybe he hates it, but if he _fell_..." Jazz paused, searching for the right words. "Doesn't he ever lose control?"

"You mean like Danny did at first...?" But as Sam said it, she remembered that Jazz hadn't really been part of that process.

Jazz was frowning uncertainly. "I..."

Sam pushed forward, wishing she hadn't brought that up. "Er, not really. He..." Sam paused to think about it. There hadn't been any real scares, mostly because Nathaniel had mostly stuck to trying to play that game with Danny, and _Danny_ was lightning fast, unlike Sam. Any movement that _hinted_ at a tumble or a fall, and he was there. Nathaniel tried to engage Sam sometimes, but he seemed to understand that she just couldn't interact with him like Danny did.

"He doesn't really do _too_ much to freak me out, Jazz." Sam smiled lopsidedly. "I mean, he's a _halfa_. I can't pretend he's a normal kid. And I won't..._stifle_ his development. Which makes the wristband a last resort."

Jazz still looked unhappy.

"Jazz..." Sam ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "If you leave that thing on long enough, he transforms _instantly_ when you take it off. And he _hates_ that. _I_ hate that. So...I'm leaving it off as much as I can. Which means...I have to _hover_ under him sometimes. And he's even transformed a couple of times and gotten zapped by the shield. By accident. _Slightly_. But!" Sam put a hand up to forestall Jazz's distressed response. "It's definitely _surprised_ him a few times, and he doesn't like it. But he hasn't even cried over it once, and he's catching on. He's being more careful about when and _where_ he transforms. And he avoids touching the walls and ceiling when he flies. Which is a _good_ thing. I mean...he _has_ to start controlling himself. We can't rely on the wristband when he's older."

"But..."

"Listen, Danny is _sure_ he could short the wristband out, if he pushed it enough. Which means _Nathaniel_ will be able to, someday. Maybe earlier than we think. Besides, he's _not_ dumb. He'll just figure a way out of the thing eventually."

Jazz finally gave a slight nod, seeing where Sam was going. She spoke slowly. "And if he gets into the habit of paying attention to his ghost powers _now_..."

Sam nodded. "It'll be easier when he's older. Exactly. I mean, he's _not_ like Danny. He...," She smirked a little, "_His_ mom _knows_ about his powers _and_ thinks they're awesome. And they're...more a part of who he _is_. It's going to be hard for him to understand why keeping them hidden from the world is _really_ _important_."

Jazz leaned back, crossing her arms, a look of resigned understanding on her face. "Well, you've definitely thought this through."

Sam leaned back too, and raised her eyebrows. "Wouldn't you?"

Jazz hesitated for a moment, and Sam frowned slightly, waiting for her to say something. The moment drew out, becoming slightly uncomfortable.

"But...well...aren't you worried he'll _fall_?" Jazz looked positively plaintive.

Sam couldn't stop herself from laughing out loud. Clearly Jazz was having trouble moving away from that point. "Yes! It _totally_ freaks me out, Jazz! That's why I follow him around, arms up in the air!"

Jazz finally smiled back, though that protective look still lingered in her eyes.

Sam went on, slightly exasperated. "No kidding! And don't think I _don't_ have Danny on _speed_ dial! I _would _have been calling him if Nathaniel had stayed up there much _longer_ today..." Sam let out a long breath of air, resisting the powerful urge to roll her eyes.

_ Oy vey, Jazz._

After a moment she relaxed again, crossing her legs, and took a sip of her cocoa. "He actually prefers to fly when Danny's around, so it mostly works out." She pursed her lips, suddenly grumpy. "Jazz, can you imagine a few _years_ from now? When he's done something wrong he'll be _just_ out of reach, hovering up by the ceiling..."

Jazz interrupted, grinning. "Not for long! You'll grab Danny, _then_ he'll be in trouble..."

They shared a smile that ended quickly. Sam cleared her throat.

"Yeah." It came out sounding timid. Sure, Danny was already here a lot, but...time could change things. And him being near, like maybe in the same house with her, a few _years_ from now...

Sam found herself thinking of Jazz as a maid of honor, and tried not to blush.

Jazz spoke. "So...is he _always_ asleep right about now?"

Sam was nonplussed. "Er...I don't... He's at work right now, isn't he?" A long moment passed as she caught on and her cheeks slowly turned red. "Except you meant Nathaniel...of _course_."

Jazz covered an unstoppable grin with her mug, not trusting herself to answer just yet. Sam was so _sweet! _If there was one thing she was transparent about, it was her feelings for Danny...who had somehow been clueless for _years_. _Proof_ that boys matured less quickly than girls, Jazz supposed. But it was so nice to _finally_ see them together.

Still, Jazz didn't want to embarrass Sam, who was still tomato red. "So I guess Nathan's been out for almost an hour now, right?"

"Right..." They both paused for a moment. It felt so much _longer_ than that. Sam went on after a long moment, her embarrassment forgotten. "Actually, he'll probably wake up any minute, come to think of it."

That sobered them both up, as though an unspoken deadline had been imposed. The real reason for Jazz's visit came flooding back.

Sam took a deep breath, saying a silent goodbye to 'girl time.' "So I take it that...probably Dan sent a letter I _haven't_ seen. And that Danny already read it." She took a sip of her cocoa. "Right?"

Jazz accidentally gulped from her own mug, and coughed twice. She cleared her throat, and nodded one, eyebrows drawn together. "_Exactly_ right." She blinked a few times, clearing the water that had formed in her eyes after nearly choking on her cocoa. "I guess I gave that away earlier...?"

Sam grinned briefly, and took another sip of cocoa. It hadn't been very much of a stretch. "So. Tell me all the grisly details, Jazz."

Jazz stared at her, uncertain, and tried to read her.

"You know..." Jazz stopped herself. Offering to put this off was silly. Sam was asking, which meant she _wanted_ to know. And besides, she already knew there _was_ a letter, and waiting to read it later would only give her more time to worry over what was in it. And it was why Jazz had come over here in the _first_ place.

So she reached down next to her chair, where she had set her purse a while back. "Actually, I brought it with me. You can read it right now, if you want..." Jazz slowly pulled out the envelope sent by "Dimitri". She frowned down at it.

"I should apologize, Sam. You're the _last_ person to find out about this. It kind of slipped out with Danny a few days ago, and Tucker knew weeks ago." Jazz finally looked up again. "I convinced Tucker to wait, to give you guys some time..."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So...if Danny hadn't found out, we wouldn't be having this conversation, right?" She took a sip of cocoa, then broke off hurriedly at Jazz's mildly stricken look. "It's _okay_, Jazz. It's called a _joke_. You're forgiven." Sam frowned over at the other girl. "Danny...really put you through the ringer over this, didn't he?"

Jazz stared down at her cocoa, held in one hand, the letter still in the other. "Sort of, yeah. We haven't really talked in a few days, actually." Sam could see the hurt in Jazz's eyes.

Sam set her mug down, and propped her chin up with the same hand. She stared over at Jazz. "You _know_ he'll get over it, right?"

Jazz smiled half heartedly, and shrugged. "Yeah. I just...don't want to make _you_ upset at me too."

"Well...I can't promise I _won't_ be. But my guess is Danny overreacted _just_ a little." Sam smiled encouragingly, and held out a hand. "Let me see it."

Jazz handed Sam the letter, frowning softly. "It's...Dan apologizes in it. And he talks about living with Vlad, and promises to, you know, not be a sociopath any more."

Sam's eyebrows went up. So he _was_ staying with Vlad after all. "What about Vlad? Did he promise too?"

Jazz grinned, caught by surprise. "I'm _sure_ his letter's on the way."

Sam grinned too, and snorted in disbelief. She reached into the envelope a little absently, and accidentally dislodged something, which fell to her lap. It was a newspaper clip. She slowly picked it up, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the picture of Dan and Vlad.

It was rather shocking. Even with the suit, the goatee, and a ponytail...Sam had to _remind_ herself that this wasn't Danny. And knowing who it _really_ was...it pushed Sam right out of her comfort zone. She closed her eyes, and just sat for a moment.

No amount of hot cocoa was going to make this easy.

Sam opened her eyes, pointedly avoiding the photo, and read the news story that accompanied it. _Dimitri Mihailov._ Sam had to wonder at that. Did Vlad _actually_ have roots in some eastern European country? Or had he faked "Dimitri's" entire background? It would be easier for them to avoid trouble if he kept Dan's cover story as realistic as possible, so Sam guessed it was the former.

Which begged the question of whether Vlad had..._Transylvanian_ roots, for instance. Sam rolled her eyes, and stifled a laugh before it could begin. This whole thing made her nervous, and she was compensating by thinking up...lame jokes, apparently.

After reading the article through, Sam finally allowed her eyes to wander back up to the photograph. There was actually something rather fascinating about it. She took in their smiling faces, which proclaimed confidence, and success. They appeared to be on their way somewhere, but had obviously taken a moment to pose for the press. Vlad had probably arranged the moment in advance, to be sure they would both look how he wanted.

Sam's focus kept straying to Dan. He beamed at the camera with a smile dangerously close to her heart. Without the fangs, the flaming hair, and with eyes that were surely sky blue, if the photo had been printed in color...

_I wish...Danny could find this kind of confidence._

Sam had to admit that it was a pretty good photo.

She put the newspaper clip down suddenly, as a wave of personal outrage rose up. Had she just _thought_ that? Her lips tightened, and she had to close her eyes again, to squelch the feeling. After a long moment, she let out a slow breath, then picked up her mug of cocoa for another sip.

She let her eyes wander back down to the photo in her hand, hiding a frown behind the mug.

_Fine_. Sam was _very_ much attracted to Danny. So finding this photo attractive was...expected, actually. And honestly...she was just a little sensitive right now. That was all.

Sam set the newspaper clipping, and her mug, down. She could feel Jazz's eyes on her, but didn't look up. She felt too exposed already, with her emotions probably written all over her face right now. She pulled out the letter, and started reading.

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AN: So yeah, definitely a part one. Please leave me a review?


	33. Therapy Part Two

Author's Note: I want to be completely honest with you guys. I've been dealing with fear of...sucking at life, lately. :( And it's kind of seeped into this story. I got major writers block for a while, because I'm not sure about my writing being *insert cool thing here* enough. So, I went through half the alphabet editing this chapter- as in, I created a new file every time I substantially re-wrote this, and named the new file with the next letter in the alphabet each time. O_O; And the beginning still sucks! O_O

So, I guess I'm saying I'm sorry for taking so long, especially with a chapter I had written but then felt compelled to re-write ad infinitum, and I'm going to try really hard to just relax and have fun with this starting now, because it should be fun! And that goes for real life, too, lol. I hope you're enjoying the story, despite the sporadic updates. I really want things to speed up- maybe grammar will suffer, or I'll write something really stupid, or whatever. But it's worth it, I think, if I'm not super stressing over this thing, and hopefully a lot more life will come out of it. :) Maybe you can tell me when I screw up, I'm really good at taking constructive criticism. Also, if you have any advice for how to be more regular about updating, _please_ throw it my way. :) So...thank you SO much more sticking around, I really, really love all your reviews, and just knowing somebody out there enjoys reading my story! Thank you.

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Previous Chapter:

_Sam set the newspaper clipping, and her mug, down. She could feel Jazz's eyes on her, but didn't look up. She felt too exposed already, with her emotions probably written all over her face right now. She pulled out the letter, and started reading._

* * *

**A Little Therapy: Part Two**

* * *

_ Jazz._

_ First of all this is in no way a threat, so you can calm down. _

Sam snorted. _Smooth_.

_ Second: I'm sorry. A thousand times over. I'm sorry, for everything. I wish this letter could convey to you how I feel, how I've changed. It can't._

Sam felt her throat tighten.

_ I will say that I love you, all of you. I will never hurt any of you again in any way. And if you don't believe me, at least rest assured that Clockwork won't allow it._

That made her pause. _Clockwork wouldn't __**allow**__ it? _A brief memory from the night Nathaniel was kidnapped rose up. There had been many strange, stressful moments that night, and until now this particular incident had been practically forgotten. But now it struck Sam as important, almost like a piece to a puzzle she had been unconsciously trying to solve:

_ Sam had brought the Fenton RV to idle while she, Jazz, and Tucker spoke with Danny and Dan, who had been looking for Nathaniel elsewhere in the ghost zone._

_ Dan had just suggested that they go see Clockwork for help in locating Nathaniel. Sam turned to Danny...to see sheer panic in his wide eyes._

Sam found herself questioning a basic assumption: that Dan had broken his way out of Clockwork's lair. Yet Dan was promising in this letter that Clockwork could somehow _make_ him behave. That along with his suggestion that they go to the time ghost for help implied something other than the typical relationship between jailer and escapee.

Sam knew next to nothing about Clockwork. But whatever was really going on..._Danny_ knew something about it, and he hadn't shared that information with anyone. It was the only way to explain his panic. That fact churned quietly in the back of Sam's mind as she continued reading Dan's letter.

_ You're probably worried about me and Vlad working together, right? You don't need to be, believe me. That's easier said than done, I know. But essentially, Vlad helped get me back on my feet after Christmas, _

Back on his feet...? Ghosts were like...rubber balls. You could throw one against a brick wall repeatedly, and they'd still be pretty much fine. Okay...they might need maybe a _day_ to get better, but...

Then Sam understood. She had guessed at the time, but now she was sure; Dan really hadn't fought back, at all. He was an idiot for not running away, but...he'd kept his promise.

_ ...and along the way I asked him to teach me a few things about business. He agreed, and things took off from there. You're still suspicious, right? All I can say is that what you see in that newspaper is what you get. Nothing more. There is no evil plan in the works._

Sam stared at those words. _I...__**know**__ that. I've known that since __**December**__._ The emotions she had kept mostly in check until then finally flared up. Part of Sam wished she could see Dan again, if only to say those words out loud to him, _yell_ them at him. She still had dreams about him, though they had changed over time. He would be kneeling on the ground, begging. His voice was always rough, almost a whisper; it would catch in a way that showed he was trying as hard as he could to hold back tears. And she would feel this horrible _pain_ in her solar plexus, almost like a slow motion punch, every time she had to see the emotions play over his face while he told her how he'd changed, told her how sorry he was...

Sam let out a deep, shuddering sigh. She _had_ to get that memory of their conversation in Idaho out of her head. It only dredged up painful truths. She knew who Dan was..._what_ he was, probably more than anyone. She understood that the biggest difference between him and Danny were the horrific life experiences that had shaped him as a person. But if Jazz, Tucker, and Danny,_ especially _Danny were to find out how she felt, it would hurt them deeply.

And even if Sam could somehow take the pain he had caused _completely_ out of the equation- because her own outpouring on Jazz's shoulder earlier was proof it still lingered- she couldn't alter the fact that the family Dan longed for was gone, destroyed, and the one that existed in this timeline already _had_ a son. The simple truth was that they had someone else to love. And focusing on that fact only made Sam miserable.

And if _she_ were to make a space for him in her life...it would hurt and alienate Danny. She wouldn't have to say a thing; her forgiving actions would betray how she felt. And if Danny realized how much she saw of him in Dan, how could he _ever_ understand how she still loved him? Knowing that, in another time, another dimension...maybe _he_ could have _become_ Dan? It was too cruel, to ever let Danny see that, and thus suggest that he might be capable of hurting her as his older self had done.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut. The thought had _never_ occurred to her quite that way before. But it was true. She loved Danny. And her encounter with Dan could never change her love.

That thought was intense enough to make Sam shiver as if cold. She was finally seeing her own feelings about things she hadn't had the courage to deal with before now...and that was powerful. And a little painful. But despite her own bad experiences...Sam also felt weirdly grateful for all the good in her life, for her friends and family. Maybe she was thinking of the world Dan had come from, where her life was over at age fourteen? She didn't know. But understanding her forgiveness toward Dan was definitely wrapped up in this feeling. And it was strangely empowering.

A few moments passed by, and those feelings receded. Unfortunately, she was left with the familiar ache she felt when thinking of Dan's isolation. Sam felt herself tearing up slightly, and made a gargantuan effort to pull herself together, before the waterworks could get started. Jazz was still sitting quietly nearby, patiently waiting for her to finish, and she had already cried enough for one day. She took a deep breath, and went on reading.

_ Maybe this will help. Vlad's a better guy than we gave him credit for, Jazz. In my original timeline, when you and everyone else had died, he was there for me. For an entire year, he looked after me. I can't explain that in a letter either, even if I wrote out every single thing he did. But I learned a lot about him then, and I can definitely say that you can relax. That doesn't mean he's a saint. For instance, I guarantee he's found a way to read this letter. But when it comes down to it, he's mostly harmless._

Sam put the letter down. Her vision was threatening to blur.

_I will not cry._

The tears came anyway. She stood slowly, as if taking the defeat with as much dignity as possible, and headed to her bathroom. Sam waved Jazz back when she stood, and closed the door behind her.

Then Sam quietly let out her emotions. After a few minutes she turned on the tap water and splashed her face a few times. She straightened up, and gazed at herself in the mirror.

Sam understood the tears. She was mourning the decision she realized she had unconsciously made. But now that her thoughts had clarified, the decision was the same:

She _had_ to cut Dan out of her life, because if she didn't, Danny would find out _why_ she was willing to let him in. And that would break Danny's heart.

There could be no contact in the future. Dan wouldn't be "playing uncle" with Nathaniel. He couldn't see his parents again, in some form or fashion, or...rekindle his old friendships. Sam closed her eyes, brow furrowed. An image formed of Dan in the ghost zone, with Nathaniel in his arms. He hadn't wanted to let him go.

Sam forced the image out of her head. She couldn't afford to torture herself with it. She took a few long, measured breaths. If it wasn't for all of his similarities to Danny, this wouldn't be so hard. No...there wouldn't have even been a conscious decision to make. She could have been happy knowing he was...digging ditches in Siberia for eternity.

But every day Sam couldn't help but see the truth about Dan. Her son _wasn't_ the child of a monster. He was the child of her...lost, once beloved friend. And despite Dan's betrayal of that friendship through his attack over a year ago, Sam couldn't pretend she still didn't care for him on some level. She was, after all, a fiercely loyal person.

It was a terrifying thing. And it was why this decision was so hard.

_But if it's between him or Danny, then...there really isn't a decision to make at all, is there? _

A weight lifted from Sam's shoulders as she realized that. She still wasn't happy about it, but she could at least move forward now. That was it, then. She would get on with her life...and forget about Dan. She stood there for a long moment, letting this thought settle. Then she opened the bathroom door, and sat down with Jazz again.

This time, after Sam found her place in the letter, she only skimmed. With the decision about Dan made, she suddenly wanted to get through this as fast as possible, to put it to rest. She barely registered the words she was reading as she went. He explained his disguise, explained why he was trying to get rich. Asked her to...

Asked Sam to spend the money for him. It brought her up short, but before her resolve could waver and her emotions could register the request, she pushed forward again, determined to get to the end of this thing to and be _done_ with it.

Sam got through the last part, where he told them how he had changed, told them he loved them, in just a few seconds. Then she clamped down for a moment, putting up an emotional barrier before what she'd just read could properly register.

Sam put the letter down, and crossed her arms. She glared into space. Her mind churned, refusing to settle on anything for the fear that it would focus on something unpleasant, like guilt. She _refused_ to feel that emotion right now.

Jazz spoke into the silence. "I guess you're...not going to use the money...?"

Sam's eyes widened for an instant. She had forgotten about Jazz's presence in the room. She frowned again, "Of course not." Sam slowly blinked a few times, and realized she was clenching muscles all along her shoulders and back. She slowly uncrossed her arms, and let the angry look on her face drain away along with the tension in her arms. She looked over at Jazz, the unusually timid, and patient Jazz.

"So...Danny got angry at you about this, huh?" Sam smiled a little, wanting to let Jazz know that she wasn't upset at her, that she could talk to her about it. She hoped.

Jazz still looked pretty hesitant. "Well, not exactly..."

Sam raised an encouraging eyebrow. "I'm not angry now, and I doubt I will be after you tell me whatever it is you did to get Danny upset, either..."

Jazz's eyes widened, and the mood shifted suddenly. Sam _felt_ the distance open up, and tried to hide her disappointment. Jazz obviously didn't feel comfortable telling her. They both sat, the silence growing more awkward by the second. Then a quiet noise made both girls look toward the playpen, and Sam jumped up, relieved at the chance to give them both some space.

Jazz watched as Sam went to Nathaniel. After a few moments she picked him up; he was wide awake; and walked to her bed, where she set him down and crawled on herself, sitting cross-legged. She faced away from Jazz.

Jazz sighed to herself. The look on Sam's face after finishing the letter had been...grumpy, at best. Jazz stood, frowning to herself. She knew this was probably stupid, and Sam would probably be a lot more angry in a few minutes...but she felt strangely compelled to tell the other girl the truth. Not...everything. Not about her visit to Clockwork. That still wasn't completely clear in her _own_ head. But Sam would probably hear about what she had told Danny about Dan, about his phone call, sooner or later, anyway, so it was probably better to hear it from her, now. Jazz walked over to Sam's bed, having decided, and spoke to Sam's back.

"Listen, Sam...I'm just." Sam saw Jazz check herself out of the corner of her eye; she literally stood up straighter and put a hand up as if telling herself to stop.

Jazz started again almost immediately, and what she said drew Sam's full attention to her instantly. "Dan...called me on the phone. And I thought he was Danny."

They stared at each other for a brief moment; Sam's eyes wide with surprise and Jazz with a squared jaw, obviously awaiting her reaction. Sam broke off the stare, looking back down at Nathaniel, who had grabbed her thumb and was shaking her hand back and forth. She hadn't missed the tears starting to form in the corners of Jazz's eyes.

"How...long did you talk?"

Jazz let out a whoosh of air and sat on the edge of the bed next to Sam. She faced out, hunched over, while Sam faced in, toward Nathaniel and the head of the bed.

"Hours." The word held power. Sam could feel something in her change. The thought that maybe _Jazz_...

Sam stopped herself, and turned instead to watch Jazz's profile. The agonized look on Jazz's face threw Sam's thoughts into hyper drive. Had Jazz somehow come to the same conclusion she _herself_ had about...who Dan was? Or, no, she was probably just freaked out about mistaking him for Danny. But was that _solely_ why Danny gotten so upset with her...?

"So...I guess you're mad." Jazz still sat slightly hunched, looking down at her hands. She was playing thumb wars, which didn't work very well when you were your own opponent.

"Is that...all you told him? I mean, how did you..." _How did you react when you realized it wasn't Danny on the phone?_ Sam wasn't sure she wanted to ask.

Jazz snorted, in a half hearted laugh. "You're really perceptive, Sam..." She bit her upper lip, then frowned up at her briefly. "It was bad...I actually told him...you're going to _hate_ me if I tell you this..." Jazz looked down at her hands again, and paused for a long moment. But before Sam could think of how to respond, she went on in a hurry. "You know, I really respect you, Sam. You're such a good friend to Danny, and Tucker...and I feel like I'd really like to be..." She petered off for a moment, voice turning weak. "I don't seem to be very good at making close friends..." Jazz stopped, leaving an awkward silence.

"Jazz...I'm really...honored that you want me as your friend." Sam smiled gently at her profile, willing her to look up. "And, I mean, we _are_ friends. And we'll..._build_ on that over time." She grinned and let out a ghost of a laugh. "I'm definitely taking you up on the girls-day-out offer sometime soon...because I'm _over_ with shopping by myself. Or with my _mom_. And Danny and Tucker...it's just not the same." Sam hoped Jazz could hear the humor laced through her words.

Jazz looked up, that same sheepish look in her eyes back from when she'd first shown up earlier that day. She smiled hesitantly.

"You say that _now_..."

Sam stared at the other girl for a moment, amazed at this side of Jazz she'd never seen before. Did she really have a hard time making friends? Or..._close_ friends? She was such a focused, intense, confident, smart person- not to mention straight forward and somewhat obsessed with her chosen career...she was like her dad, in a lot of ways. But, maybe those qualities limited the number of people who wouldn't feel...threatened around a person like her. You had to have a lot of confidence to be around Jazz. And a tolerance for psycho-babble.

But Sam knew this was a side issue. Jazz was really afraid of being rejected for...disloyalty. Or...was it loyalty? Just not the kind Danny could appreciate?

"I...think I know what you're afraid of saying, Jazz." Sam paused, trying to think how to word this. She could feel herself entering uncertain territory concerning her decision to cut Dan out of her life. "Did you tell Danny that you..." She couldn't quite say it out loud. What if she was completely wrong?

"Oh, Sam! Please forgive me..." Jazz was suddenly staring at Sam, her intense blue-green eyes searching for something. "He's just...so much more than a _monster_ from the _ghost_ zone..." Her eyes were plaintive, begging her to understand.

Sam had to look down, a frown etched on her face. She could feel the emotions from her cry in the bathroom earlier fighting their way up again. But she couldn't share that with Jazz. She brought a hand up to pinch her nose, and closed her eyes. She could feel Jazz still watching her.

"Jazz..." Sam bit her lip, and let out a huff of air. She kept her eyes closed. "I..." Then something moved inside her, and words she suddenly realized she _really_ wanted to say came out. As she spoke, her eyes met Jazz's.

"Nathaniel is _not_ the son of a monster." Sam stared for a moment longer, then ran a hand through her hair in an exasperated movement...and turned back to her son.

No one talked for a few moments, unless you counted Nathaniel's baby-speak.

Sam spoke, voice coming out hard. "Don't tell Danny I said that. Please, Jazz."

"I won't." Jazz shifted around, to sit cross-legged next to Sam, finally facing the same way, toward Nathaniel.

Sam went on, voice softer. "I...understand what you're saying..._trying_ to say. And...there's nothing to forgive. That phone call just made you recognize your own...y-you know. But it's really hard for Danny to take."

Jazz took a moment to respond, with a careful, quiet tone. "That's exactly why he got upset. Because...I told him I saw _Dan_ as a sort of..." Jazz shifted and Sam glanced up to see the pain in her face. It was the same pain, in part, that Sam knew very well.

"A brother." Sam quietly finished the thought for her, and Jazz glanced up, confirming it with the dark, embarrassed look in her eyes. She still expected Sam to be angry.

What Jazz had said implied a _lot_. The temptation gripped Sam for a brief moment to reciprocate completely, and to tell the older girl exactly how _she_ saw Dan. But part of her didn't think she could _ever_ voice those thoughts out loud, and shouldn't- not if she wanted to protect Danny from finding out. Sam stared down at Nathaniel as she struggled for safe words.

Jazz remained silent, looking away. Part of her was still waiting for Sam to get angry, to express how betrayed she felt.

Finally, Sam went on, keeping her voice gentle as she spoke. It was hard, because this came so close to what she couldn't afford to say.

"That's..._okay_, Jazz. Because he's getting better now. He wants to _make_ things better. And I never would have believed it, but Vlad is actually _helping_ him. He's..._getting_ there." She snorted, and smiled softly, as she attempted to play patty-cake with Nathaniel. "So, you know...good luck to him..."

Several long moments went by, while Sam paid close attention to her son, too nervous to look up. What she said...it _had_ to sound a little strange.

But eventually, the feeling of eyes on the back of her head was too much, and she looked up...and got caught. Jazz was smiling at her softly. There was something so straight forward there, it made Sam feel almost bashful. It was honest admiration, aimed at _her_. Sam finally look away, embarrassed.

"Sam. You are...a _really_ amazing person." And almost under her breath, Jazz added something else. "You've forgiven him."

It wasn't really a question. Sam froze, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. She kept her head down, only cutting her eyes up toward Jazz. Embarrassment made her stutter.

"I..."

Jazz gave an unladylike snort, which caught Sam by surprise. That was _her_ snort! Then, before Sam could react, she was suddenly tackled by Jazz in a sideways semi-hug.

Jazz laughed into her hair for a few moments, then pulled back slightly. "You are a _very_ special person."

Sam swallowed and blushed, her mouth a flat line of embarrassment. _ That could be taken multiple ways, you know._

"Whatever you say, Jazz." Sam paused, dead serious. "But _don't_ tell Danny."

Jazz smiled, looking way too lighthearted about it. "I won't."

Sam stared at her head-on. "Woah, _seriously_, Jazz...he _wouldn't_ understand..."

Jazz's grin fell away, and for a second she looked completely serious too. "Don't worry. I know. And I _promise_ I won't tell him..." then the grin was back, "what an _awesome_ _person_ you are!"

Sam rolled her eyes, somehow feeling happiness get its grip on her. She was still partly amazed at getting glomped by Jazz of all people. Actually, she was _completely_ amazed they were actually talking about _forgiving_ Dan, and that Jazz _understood_, and didn't hold it against her. Jazz obviously felt the same way, which just made the feeling grow into...giddiness, almost.

Sam had gotten to take a _lot_ of weight off her chest today. She had even shared her secret about Dan, after all. Of course, she hadn't really clarified exactly what she saw in Dan- she doubted even Jazz could handle _that. _But it still felt good, even partially confessing, and to someone, she was just realizing, who could and _would_ keep her secrets.

"You know, Jazz, you're going to be a _really_ successful psychiatrist someday." Sam grinned as she finally pushed Jazz completely off her.

Jazz grinned back, and gave her a mock haughty look. "Of _course_." She broke back into a smile, and for a little while all three of them played together, much to Nathaniel's delight.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's do each other's makeup...and have a _party_."

A tiny voice chimed in. "Paah-dey!"

Danny tapped lightly at Sam's window, hovering outside. He'd had a long boring day working at Vlad Inc., and the only break in the tedium had come in the form of a long, difficult Calculus class. He was tired, in a bad mood (had been for days), and _definitely_ had studying he needed to d...

Danny lurched back instinctively at the _thing_ which had suddenly appeared in Sam's window. He took a second look as the thing resolved into Jazz's grinning face. She was wearing ridiculously heavy makeup, with crazy green and dark blue eye-shading...or shadow or whatever...

He stared at her, incredulous. "_Jazz_?"

"Danny! It's safe." Meaning the ghost shield was down (though part of him wondered if some version of Ember on steroids wasn't in the vicinity). He floated slowly inside, to see Sam over by the wall socket, also heavily made up. Tucker was on the bed with Nathaniel. The smell of fresh pizza hit Danny, and he looked over to see several boxes set out on Sam's dresser, with root beer set in ice nearby.

Jazz chirped up at him. "Perfect timing!"

Sam chuckled as she plugged the ghost shield back into the wall socket. "_Yeah_. Tucker was about to lay claim to _your_ pizza."

Danny raised his eyebrows, glancing over to Tuck, who pulled a face. "Man, I was _really_ looking forward to pigging out! B-u-u-ut I _guess_ you're being here is cool too..." He grinned.

Danny transformed, landing solidly on the floor, a smile finally reaching his face.

Then Jazz tackled him with a hug. He looked down, completely surprised, and hugged her back one-armed, by reflex.

They hadn't really spoken since he'd learned about the letter a few days ago. That conversation came back along with a wave of remorse.

Danny hugged her a little harder, then let go, and put his back-pack down. She caught his eye, and he smiled sheepishly, trying to give her a silent apology.

Jazz's smile widened. She got the message. "Come on Danny, get some pizza." Her eyes turned wicked. "_Then_ we're battling it out with Super Mario Brothers, and _you're_ going down!"

Tucker piped up. "Ha, you guys _know_ I always win!"

Danny smirked. "We'll see about _that_..."

"...about _that_..." Sam started laughing, as she realized that she and Danny had just said the exact same thing. They shared a grin, which softened for a brief moment into something more tender.

Then Danny made his way over to the pizza, a smile still on his face. Sometimes...there were things more important than studying.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, (^_^) and if you skipped over the author's note at the top, please take a second to read it. (And good-bye to that stinking letter! I've freaking over-used it at this point, right? Arrrg. )


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